The Searcher
by BrowsingAbout
Summary: When Vinnie is forced on a trip down memory lane, he relives the beginnings of the Plutarkian invasion of Mars while Throttle and Modo race against time to bring their bro back...before it's too late. DUN DUN DUN. My idea of the origins. Vinnie-centric with my original characters.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N. Well, here we go! I have published this story before on a different site, but never here. If I screwed up the uploading in any way, then forgive me. I'm still learning the ropes. All characters that are Biker Mice from Mars characters belong to, you guessed it, the creators of Biker Mice from Mars. All other characters are mine. Without further ado...**

* * *

**The Searcher**

"Aaaahoooww!" a shrill voice cried out.

Limburger grimaced and watched on the monitor as his three most hated enemies careened easily around his employed marauders, taking them out one by one and laughing and joking all the time. He didn't expect that his henchmen would actually win, of course; he had merely wanted to lure the mice out of their hole and into open land. Still, it was disconcerting to witness the easy annihilation of his personal army.

They were in the open space of a park, lured there by a "robbery" of a bank. The Biker Mice were only too willing to chase them down, most likely anticipating an afternoon of fun at his expense. Oh, how he hated them.

This time, however, they would surely get their due. An evil, self satisfied grin slithered over Limburger's lips as he lifted a small vial with clear liquid. Karbunkle had promised a quite intriguing result from this harmless looking flask. The hardest part was to get the contents into their systems…and that would surely be taken care of quite soon. He laughed softly to himself as he recalled his conversation with the mad scientist.

"Just tell me what it is, dear boy," he had said earlier, making little effort to hide his impatience.

"Oh, it's something quite different," the scientist had wheezed. "But I'll give you a hint. What is something that is not only infinitely stronger than any muscle bound villain that we throw at them, but also something that resides within themselves?" Limburger had stared at the scientist and was about ready to eject him from his office when it dawned on him. He had ordered the robbery ruse and armed his henchmen soon after.

Now he strolled to the large window that gazed over the city. He was so close to owning it, he could feel it. A voice startled his dreaming and he turned to the monitor.

"Should I launch the attack now, O Cheesiness?" Karbunkle asked in his ingratiating whine.

"Go ahead," Limburger replied calmly. He turned away and grinned again.

What was stronger than brawn and yet resided within?

The mind.

* * *

"Whoa-ho, don't look now, but you got a mouse on your tail!" Vinnie exclaimed, whipping behind one goon. He reached out and grabbed the man by the pants, then flung him into the bushes a few yards away. Throttle chuckled, taking out an enemy himself, but he was unsettled.

"Big fella," he called to Modo, "doesn't it seem like this is too easy?"

"Whaddaya mean?" Modo said, side swiping an oncoming thug with his metal arm.

"I mean, first of all, when is the last time that Limburger tried to rob a bank? Kind of forward isn't it?"

"Yeah, he's usually slimier than that. And these guys aren't fightin' too hard either," Modo said, his brow furrowed with thought.

"It's like they lured us here…it's like a trap!" Throttle said, raising his voice so Vinnie could hear. Vinnie snorted and blithely fired his engines.

"Aw, who cares? If Cheeseface wants to play, then well, let's humor the guy for once!"

"Doesn't sit right to humor him any…" Modo grumbled. Throttle, after punching out an approaching goon, nodded and revved his engine.

"Let's chase 'em off fast and blow this joint," he resolved. "Vincent! You hear me?"

"Aw, we haven't played around in ages!" Vinnie moaned. "No need to hold this mouse back, I've got it all under control!"

_Famous last words, _Throttle thought to himself, but had to admit that the area still seemed harmless. Perhaps Limburger was getting desperate and his weak attempt at robbery simply went wrong. Or perhaps…

"Hey, watch it!" Throttle suddenly shouted, veering sharply to the left. A small, sharp projectile had just been fired silently at him, and he barely missed it. "Vinnie! Big Fella!" Modo noticed and managed to deflect it with his gun-arm, but Vinnie, who was in the midst of gleefully sailing over his enemies' vehicles, caught the small object square in the chest. He gasped and landed his bike hard, barely managing to keep it upright. Quick fear flooded Throttle as he watched his younger bro clutch his chest in pain.

But then, after a few agonizing seconds, Vinnie straightened, pulled something from his fur and flicked it away. The grin he flashed them was as wide as always.

"No sweat bros, they can't take the Vin-man down that easily!"

"I hear ya bro, but it's still time to get this over with!" Throttle called.

"I second it," Modo growled, and opened his gun arm. Before they could launch a last attack, the thugs suddenly screeched to a halt, swerved around and rocketed away. The three mice looked at each other, puzzled.

"Well, I guess they had enough fun for today," Vinnie hooted, trying to retain his confidence despite his confusion.

"Guess so. Hey, why don't we celebrate with some grub at Charley's?" Throttle suggested.

"I barely worked up an appetite. But, who's gonna say no to some 'dogs and rootbeer?" Modo remarked. Vinnie merely gave his high pitched victory cry and wheeled his bike around, taking the lead.

"So, what was that thing that hit you, Vin? Does it still hurt?" Throttle called casually over the motors.

"Pshaw, me, hurt? It'll take more than a spitwad like that to knock _me_ down!" Vinnie replied proudly. Throttle chuckled but continued to glance at him as they traveled home.

"Sweetheart, I'm hooome!" Vinnie called moments later, bursting into the garage. Charley peered past the hood of the truck that concealed her and rolled her eyes.

"Sheesh, Vin, why don't you speak up? I couldn't hear you that time," she said sarcastically, bending over the engine once more.

"What's wrong, babe, oil in your ears?" Vinnie teased, slinging his arm around her. Charley elbowed him in the gut, but her smile faded quickly at his sharp intake of breath. She looked at him, puzzled, but he merely made a face at her and retreated to the kitchen table.

"Afternoon, Charley ma'am," Modo said in his courtly way, before stuffing his face full of the steaming junk food. Charley wiped her hands with a rag and pulled up a chair.

"So, you guys save the day again or what?" she asked, helping herself to some rootbeer.

"Wasn't much to save," Throttle replied after swallowing. "Seems like Limburger's thugs tried to rob a bank, but they didn't put up much of a fight, and turned tail after…" he trailed off and shoved another hotdog in his mouth. Charley raised an eyebrow at him expectantly, but he pointed to his full mouth. She shook her head and rose from the table.

"So what are your plans for the rest of the day, besides _not_ making a mess in my house?" she asked pointedly.

"Well, I dunno, but I'm feelin' in the mood for some Sweet Georgie Brown," Modo said with a grin, reaching over to the radio. Charley cringed.

"Ugh, I wish my ears really were full of oil," she moaned as the screaming sounds of the electric guitar filled the small room. Throttle and Modo whooped at the strains of one of their favorite tunes, but all of them stopped short when they saw Vinnie grimace with pain and swiftly cover his ears.

"What's wrong?" Modo asked, quickly switching the radio off. Charley stepped closer, her brow furrowed. Out of all of them, Vinnie always had the highest tolerance for noise, especially since he generally _made_ the most noise.

"I just…I dunno. I have a headache or something," Vinnie mumbled, his voice sounding oddly subdued. Throttle frowned and peered at him. Vinnie's face looked drawn and a little vacant, and his eyes were fixed on a spot on the floor. Suddenly he blinked and glanced up at his bros, his eyes focusing and regaining their normal expression.

"What are you all lookin' worried for? I'm fine, just a little headache. Crank it up again Modo," he said, but as he spoke his smile slid away and his face became blank again.

"Why don't you lie down, Vin," Charley said, reaching for his arm. "You don't look so good."

"Babe, I _always _look good. I…whoa…" Vinnie slowly slumped forward, and Throttle and Modo both moved at the same time to catch him.

"Come on, lil' bro," Modo said gently, easing him to his feet. Vinnie protested weakly, but they ignored him and pushed him carefully down on the sofa. He leaned back, his palms pressed against his eyes. Charley touched his forehead and was distressed to feel that his fur was damp with sweat.

"I'll go get a cool washcloth...Vinnie!" Charley suddenly gasped. "Your antennae!" All of them gave a start of surprise as Vinnie's antennae began to glow a soft red, the light slowly increasing. Throttle dropped down next to him.

"Vinnie? Look at me. What are you feeling now? Do you see anything strange?" he asked urgently. Vinnie suddenly reached out in front of him, grasping sluggishly at the air.

"What's going on? Who…it can't be…Rayna?"

"Huh?" Modo asked, looking around.

"Rayna? Is that you? Don't you see her? Look!" Vinnie cried, pointing at nothing. Charley eased down on his other side, and lowered his arm gently.

"Vinnie, no one is there. It's okay," she said soothingly, trying to keep a tremor of fear from her voice. She glanced at Throttle, her eyes asking questions.

"Vinnie, listen to me. Don't let yourself be pulled to the past. Stay with us. Fight it!" Throttle said urgently.

"Modo, what's going on?" Charley hissed, but Modo shook his head slowly, looking as confused and perplexed as she felt. Only Throttle seemed to have an idea of what was happening to their friend.

"I'm…I'm trying…I just can't…" All of them watched tensely as his face showed a struggle that none of them could comprehend. Suddenly, his eyes widened and his antennae glowed more brightly than ever.

"Whoa…I'm falling…I'm…bros, give me a hand here! Bros…Charley…where are ya going?" Vinnie called, his voice filled with uncharacteristic panic. Charley shuddered, having never heard fear in his voice before.

"I'm here Vin, stay with me," she urged, squeezing his hand. Vinnie looked at her with glazed eyes, sweat trickling through his fur.

"My head…it hurts…it…Charley…" Vinnie drew in a sharp breath, stared at Charley, no, _through_ Charley with wide eyes. As Charley clutched his hand, Vinnie's eyes slowly rolled back in his head.

"No!" Throttle called, shaking his arm, but Vinnie relaxed completely into the couch, his eyes sliding shut. His breathing slowed and deepened, and his hand went limp in Charley's grasp. She drew her breath in and quickly placed her hand over his heart, but it was beating steadily.

"He's gone," Throttle said grimly, standing up.

"What…what do you mean? He's not…not dead!" Charley protested.

"Yes, his body is still here, but his mind is not."

"What do you mean? Where is he?" Modo demanded.

"His mind is no longer in the present," Throttle said cryptically. He glanced up at Modo. "Whether he wants to or not, he's become a Searcher." Modo's face registered with surprise and alarm, and though Charley didn't know the connotations of the word, she looked fearfully at the still, sleeping form of the young white mouse.


	2. Chapter 2

_The faces of his friends wavered, grew distant, and finally faded away as Vinnie floated down into the darkness. He caught snatches of voices, and saw flashes of faces, but nothing could truly register in his mind. Suddenly, like a discordant note in a symphony, Karbunkle's sniveling voice filled his mind._

_ "Let's go back a ways, shall we?" Vinnie gasped as the feeling of falling accelerated. Slowly, the world around him began to come into focus. The darkness lightened until it was the pale purple of a Martian twilight. The familiar damp smell of evening filled his nose, smells that he hadn't experienced since the dust of explosions choked his planet. He realized that he was outside, and as sound began to filter into his ears, he held his breath at the familiar chatter of voices. Then, his vision became clear. _

_ "That's…that's…" Panic stopped his thoughts as he experienced the strangest sensation yet. He felt as though he was literally being pulled apart. Once he could only see the twilight and smell the grass, and now he was simultaneously aware of the interior of a house and the smells of cooking. He struggled to hold himself together, but as he tried to look at his hands to see what was happening to him, he gasped to see that he could no longer see himself._

_ "What on Mars…" Slowly, his own inner voice, his awareness of who he was began to fade. "Bros…Charley…help." His final thought faded into silence and he, Vinnie Van Wham, became nothing but invisible eyes observing his own life._

* * *

_(Fourteen years ago on Mars) _

The Martian sky was beginning to darken into the purple of twilight when a white furred Martian female opened the door of her house and peered out into the dim yard.

"Vinnie!" the woman, whose name was Shandria, called. She smiled as a small voice answered from the stretch of driveway. Chuckling, she shook her head over her small son and leaned against the doorframe to watch the scene.

On the driveway of the small house, a young, white-furred Martian knelt down next to a battered bike. The bike was obviously made for children, with pedals and a very low powered motor. At the moment the front wheel was bent and in need of some air. Vinnie, his little tongue sticking from the corner of his mouth, grasped a tool with grubby hands and pulled with all his might. The wheel slowly began to resume its former shape. Vinnie shifted his weight to give relief to his knobby knees, which were sticking out of the holes in his jeans, and continued his work.

Next to him, a small girl bent over her own work; the sniffling owner of the bike. She pushed her blond hair out of her eyes and carefully applied a bandage to the boy's knee.

"Now listen," she said in a stern little voice, lifting her gold flecked brown eyes to his face. "If you want to race around on dirt hills, then you need to wear kneepads, or at least a helmet. What if this was your head?" The boy rubbed his nose and nodded.

"Is my bike gonna be okay?" he asked hesitantly. Vinnie threw the tool aside and hooked up the bike pump. He glanced over to the owner and nodded.

"Sure…it's…it's gonna be fine," he said, finding it difficult to talk and pump the tires at the same time. "This is Vinnie's Bike Service…I can fix…anything you…bring me." He gave a gasp for air and gave a few more pumps before giving the tire an experimental squeeze. Satisfied, he replaced the cap firmly.

"There!" he said proudly, throwing his little chest out. "Good as new. And it looks like Rayna patched you up too. You see, with Vinnie's Bike Service you can get a fix-up for you and your bike. Don't forget…the guy down the street there doesn't have a doctor." The little boy nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, that's right," he said with a smile. He grasped his bike handles. "Thanks a bunch."

"Ah-ah!" Vinnie cried, holding out a grease streaked hand. "This isn't free ya know!"

"Oh! Um, how much do I owe you?" Vinnie named his price and stuck out his chin when the boy started to complain. The boy sighed and dug in his pocket for the money. He deposited the coins in Vinnie's outstretched hand and Vinnie smiled cheerfully.

"You have a nice night, and remember, at Vinnie's Bike Service, you get what you pay for!" he said loudly, clearly mimicking a television commercial. At the door, Vinnie's mother had to muffle her laughter.

"Wow, we made a lot tonight," Rayna remarked as the boy rode away. She knelt and began to gather her medical supplies—bandages, ice packs, and various, half empty tubes of medicine from her kitchen—and glanced up at Vinnie with a sharp eye.

"You'd better give me my share, Van Wham," she said, looking oddly threatening despite her delicate face and warm brown eyes.

"Aw, I'm no cheat," Vinnie said with a scowl, laboriously counting out coins. Rayna finished packing her knapsack and sat beside him to help. When the coins were separated, they pocketed their income and stood to take down the sign that proudly bore the title of the business they had set up. The paint was splotchy in some areas and the spelling was a little skewed, but the children who flocked to get their bikes fixed or cuts and bruises patched up didn't notice or care. Vinnie, who spent his formative years watching his father work on real motorcycles, had actually gained a decent amount of knowledge about basic repairs and that, coupled with his intuitive knowledge, made him a rather successful little mouse. His best friend and next door neighbor, Rayna, had eagerly joined as a "doctor".

Shandria, noticing the darkening sky, leaned out and called to them.

"Vinnie! Rayna! Come inside now, it's getting dark." Vinnie turned to Rayna and eagerly held out his hand.

"Wanna watch the Motocross race with me? Dad recorded it, and Mom made cookies today."

"Okay!" Rayna replied, placing her ivory colored hand in his. The two began to make their way to the door when a call made him pause and turn. Vinnie squinted to see another neighbor wave at him.

"Vinnie's Bike Service is closed now, but-!" Vinnie started to explain, but the boy cut him off.

"Aw, I don't care about your bike shop or whatever it is. Throttle has a new bike! It's almost like a real motorcycle! It's so cool, come on and see!" Without even waiting for an answer, the boy scampered away.

Vinnie grinned, his red eyes sparkling. Throttle, a mouse who was nine to Vinnie's seven, was a neighbor whom Vinnie secretly admired and tried to emulate. Their parents were close friends from childhood, so the two young mice spent so much time together growing up that Throttle was almost like a blood relative. He also had the coolest bikes in the neighborhood.

"Ray, I'm going over to Throttle's. We can watch the Motocross tomorrow. 'Kay, bye!" The mouse turned to go, but Rayna caught hold of his shirt and pulled him back.

"I wanna come too!"

"Aw, Ray, you're just a girl," Vinnie said, trying to sound as cool and macho as his childish falsetto allowed. Rayna stamped her foot.

"I've been hangin' around you and your bikes all day today, so don't tell _me_ that I'm too girly for this! I'm comin'!"

"Aw, alright," Vinnie said with a heavy sigh. "Oh wait…Mom, can I go to Throttle's?" Shandria, who had been waiting for him to ask, cheered silently at her progress in teaching the boy some manners.

"Alright, but you'd better be back in ten minutes or I'll come and drag you back by the tail!" she called. Vinnie cringed and grabbed Rayna's hand.

"Come on, hurry!" he cried and the two children raced off into the twilight. Shandria sighed with contentment and watched them and they raced down the road as fast as their short legs could carry them. All around them were the sounds of night…insects chirping, mice pulling into the driveway, parents calling their children inside. Overhead, the tiny stars began to appear, and the two moons shone brilliantly. Shandria remembered the wars of the distant past, the wars that earned their planet's fierce name, and was grateful that they had been living peacefully for so long. Grateful that she could let Vinnie run to his neighbor's without fear.

She slipped inside her home to warm the cookies. The television had been left on, and the mouse on the news was talking about some faraway planet with an odd name.

"In galactic news, the planet Plutark has just claimed official ownership of their nearest planetary neighbor, and plan to use the planet as resources to replenish what was used on their own planet. The official claim was that they made an alliance, but some assert that the planet was invaded. Speculation—" The voice was cut off as Shandria switched off the television. The news bored her. She set the timer for ten minutes and snatched a few cookies to take to her husband Tread, the real mechanic in the household, who was working on his bike in the garage. He put aside his work to eat a cookie, and they both laughed as she relayed to him their son's antics.

"The kid is pretty good though, for a little tyke," Tread said thoughtfully as he twirled a wrench between his fingers. Shandria nudged him.

"Of course he is. You _are_ the best mechanic around…so you say." Tread roared and tackled her playfully as she laughed and tried to fend him off.

Soon Vinnie and Rayna were home demanding food and attention, and no one in the little family gave another thought to the news about that far off planet with the odd sounding name.

* * *

"Throttle, what is going on?" Charley asked, shifting Vinnie around so that he could lie comfortably on the pillow she had brought. She readjusted the cool washcloth she had laid across his forehead and glanced up at her brooding friends. Throttle had just come back from having a little inter-planetary chat with Stoker, and he threw himself across an armchair with a loud sigh. He had had his suspicions, and Stoker confirmed them. Now he had to break the news. He glanced up to see Charley's green eyes probing his worriedly, and then over to Modo to see him look equally concerned.

"Well, it seems that I was right. Vinnie has become a Searcher."

"Um, Earthling here. I have no idea what you mean," Charley asserted. Throttle leaned forward to explain, and Modo listened hard as well, for he only had a vague notion of the mysterious sect of Martians.

"Charley, you know how I've used my antennae to convey images to you, correct?"

"Yes," Charley replied, remembering the first day they met.

"Well, working with our minds in that way is just one thing that we Martians can do using our antennae. We can convey images to an individual, but can also project our memories so that many can see them. Some of us are linked by their antennas and have a special awareness of one another. Some mice spend a lifetime studying how to strengthen that part of their minds. One group is called the Searchers.

"The Searchers spend their lives on a very different practice. Instead of projecting clear memories, a Searcher works with meditation to reach back into his own past, even to events which are dim or barely remembered."

"So…they're able to remember things well?" Charley interjected.

"Much more than that. Through trances, they literally sink into their past and see not only their own viewpoint or memory, but the entire picture. It's like you going back to, say, an experience in high school, but instead of you seeing it through your eyes as you did the first time around, you see it as if you are a fly on the wall, observing everything."

"Informative, but not too comfortable," Charley said with a shudder.

"It is kind of strange. Searchers would claim that Martians have much to learn from the past, and that their practice is in the pursuit of learning. It takes a long time for a Searcher to attain the highest level, but once he does, you can imagine the value. They were once often used as witnesses if they were in the vicinity of a crime. They just go back, look around, and return with their story."

"So what does this have to do with Vinnie? You aren't saying that _he's _a Searcher, are you? That takes years and…umm…well…" Modo trailed off, trying to be tactful.

"Discipline? Yeah, something Vinnie doesn't exactly have in spades. I'm thinking it has to do with something I picked up after the battle," Throttle said, holding out his palm. On it lay what looked like a tiny needle. Modo and Charley studied it.

"Looks harmless enough…wait! Didn't Vinnie get hit with something during the fight? Is that it?" Modo demanded. Charley gasped, putting the pieces together.

"Did that have something in it to force him to become a Searcher?" she asked breathlessly.

"Bingo," Throttle replied, jabbing his forefinger at her. "There must have been a chemical in it that took over the part of the mind that allows someone to become a Searcher. I mean, Vinnie has all of the symptoms, yet there is no way that he could have done it on his own, not without years of practice. Now who do you think cooked this devious plan up?"

"Karbunkle!" Charley and Modo shouted together.

"That's what I'm thinking," Throttle affirmed. "I just don't know why."

"That low down, belly crawling, slimy _snake,_" Modo hissed, his eye glowing an angry red. He turned and smacked a hubcap so hard it bounced off the wall. Charley frowned in agreement and turned toward Vinnie, her eyes moving sympathetically over his still form. All were silent for a moment, deep in thought.

"Did the shooter fire those things at all three of you?" Charley finally asked, gingerly taking the needle from Throttle's palm. Throttle suddenly slammed his fist into his hand.

"Of course, how could I have missed that?" he cried, his husky voice rising louder than usual. "Karbunkle planned for all of us to be out of commission!"

"What do you mean? How long does this last?" Charley asked, alarmed. "I mean, won't he just be knocked out for a little while until the memory is over?" Throttle and Modo looked at each other, and though Modo knew little about Searchers, he knew the answer to this.

"I don't know, Charley ma'am," he said, trying to soften the blow.

"Charley, it's hard to say," Throttle intoned. "The vital skill that the Searchers have is the ability to keep a fraction of their consciousness even when becoming part of the memory. That consciousness allows them to have the ability to pull them back into the present. If Vinnie has no skills as a Searcher, and if this whole episode is triggered by chemicals…"

"He's stuck," Charley finished, her heart pounding. Throttle nodded.

"He could be out until he goes through his entire life up until now," Throttle confirmed. Modo growled and clenched his fist.

"_No one_ messes with our bro like that! I say we storm Limburger's Tower and pound both Limburger's and Karbunkle's faces in until one of them bring Vinnie back!" Modo declared.

"I'm with ya, bro, but I need to try something first," Throttle said, approaching Vinnie. "Stoker suggested that I try to accelerate him through the years to get him up to the present."

"Is that safe for either of you?" Charley asked skeptically.

"I can't be one hundred percent sure, but it's worth a shot," Throttle said seriously. He stepped over to Vinnie and took a deep breath before leaning down and touching Vinnie's antennae with his own. He let out his breath slowly and closed his eyes. Modo and Charley watched tensely as he began to clench his fists. After a few agonizing moments, he gasped for breath and backed away.

"Aw, man, talk about brain freeze," he mumbled, clutching his head. Charley took his arm and led him to a chair.

"Are you okay? Did it work?"

"Yes and no. I'm alright, but I don't think I brought him very far. I saw images rushing by, and I assumed that I was pushing him through the years, but maybe not. I…I kinda hope it didn't work."

"Huh? How come?" Modo asked. Throttle sat quietly for a moment.

"Judging from where the images stopped, I think I brought him to a pretty painful time." Throttle looked up at Modo and dipped his shades a bit. "I think he is reliving what happened eight years ago."

"Oh, mama."


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N.: This section includes some song lyrics that do not belong to me. I included parts of the song Dyin' to Be Alive by Hanson. (No judging. ;)) I suck at song writing, and this one was so perfect for the story. Read on!  
**

* * *

_Eight years ago on Mars_

"Mmm…" Vinnie mumbled, his voice muffled by the weight of the covers over his face. He was brought into semi consciousness by a sharp tapping sound on the window, but the sound only resulted in him burrowing deeper into his nest of bedclothes.

"Two more minutes…" he muttered and was soon fast asleep. He was unaware of the soft sound of his window sliding open, or of the gentle padding of feet that crept close to his bed. He was very aware, however, of the loud and sudden voice that yelled his name.

"Vinnie!" Vinnie sat stark upright in his bed, looking around wildly.

"What…what…hey!" Vinnie sputtered, glaring at the intruder that stood at the foot of his bed. "Cheese, what's the deal, Rayna? Get out of here!" Vinnie cried, gathering his bedclothes closer around him.

A tall, slender female mouse adorned with cutoff jeans and a tank top stood before him, hands on her hips and her backpack slung over one shoulder. A large, translucent purple stone hung against the dark top, a bright and startling color. She brushed her thick blonde hair out of her dark eyes, which were at the moment quite worried, and shook her head.

"Vinnie, I've been calling you for over an hour!" Rayna cried, gesturing at her watch. "It's almost 8:00! If we don't leave in five minutes, you'll be late for school!"

"What?!" Vinnie shot out of bed, tripped on his tangled bedclothes, and tumbled to the floor. Rayna suppressed a smile, and replaced it with an anxious look when he met her eyes.

"Ooh, Vin, you know what the teacher will do to you if you're late again," Rayna said, grabbing a shirt slung over a chair and tossing it to him.

"I know, I know. Ugh, a month of cleaning toilets after school…_not_ cool!" Vinnie mumbled, struggling to put his shirt on over his thin torso. Once on he rushed out the door, banging into the doorframe on the way.

"Vin, wait!" Vinnie skidded to a halt, glanced back over Rayna, and turned red when she saw him dangling his jeans from her hands.

"Uh, thanks," he muttered. "Can you…uh…." Rayna obediently turned and averted her eyes while he changed out of the shorts that served as pajamas and donned the jeans.

"Alright, let's go!" he yelled a few seconds later.

"Do you have your shoes?"

"Downstairs!" he called in reply.

Vinnie clattered halfway down the stairs and leapt over the banister, skidding only a little before racing into the kitchen. To his utter amazement, his mother, Shandria, was sitting placidly at the table, scrolling through digital news and sipping a hot drink. She wore a thick robe over her pajamas, and her brown hair was pulled into a messy ponytail. She looked up, mildly surprised, when her only son burst into the kitchen and immediately started crawling around in search of his shoes.

"Um, Vin…?"

"Mom! Sheesh, what's going on? Couldn't you have woken me up or something?" Vinnie complained as he jammed his feet in his sneakers.

"Why would I do that?"

"Oh, I don't know, because I'll be cleaning toilets forever if I'm a minute late to class today? And what's going on with you, shouldn't you be at work or something?"

"No, Vinnie…not on a weekend." At his mother's short statement, Vinnie froze, his hand on the doorknob. He turned around slowly and gazed first at Shandria, and then up at Rayna who was halfway down the staircase, doubled over laughing with tears streaming from her eyes. Vinnie glared at her.

"I'm gonna kill you!" he hollered and Rayna, who couldn't speak for laughing, turned and scrambled up the stairs. Shandria chuckled, clucked her tongue, and returned to her reading.

"Ahh, Vinnie, it was just a joke…haha!" Rayna yelped as Vinnie grabbed her ankles and tackled her. She was still laughing even as he captured her wrists and his hand and attacked her ribs with his fingers.

"Oooh, you just wait…every prank that enters my brain is going to have your name on it, sister!" Vinnie declared, tickling her pitilessly. Rayna took several gulps of air and tried to speak.

"Begging for mercy, are we?" Vinnie asked, stopping in his tickling and leaning close to hear.

"You shoulda seen the look on your face, _hahaha!_" Rayna shouted before bursting into giggles again. Vinnie glowered at her, then smiled slightly, rising to his feet. As he did, he swiftly snatched her shoes off of her feet and bolted to his room.

"Vinnie, don't you dare!" Rayna called after him, scrambling upright. She entered his room just in time to see him lean out the window, her shoes in his hands.

"No!" Rayna cried, lunging at him. Vinnie shouted a victory cry as he flung her shoes out the window and across the yard, in the general direction of the woods that flanked both of their houses.

"Grr.." Rayna growled, her turn to glare.

"Now we're even," Vinnie shot back smugly. Rayna eyed him, then snorted with laughter again.

"Not exactly…_I _didn't fall out of bed and run into the door with no pants on!" Vinnie sighed in disgust as she began to laugh again.

"Girls, they're so _dumb_," he muttered, falling back on his bed. Rayna giggled for a few moments then took a few gulps of air and quieted, flopping down on a well worn chair.

"So, what are you doing today now that you're up so bright and early?" Rayna asked innocently. Vinnie glared at her one last time before answering.

"I don't know. I guess I figured you had something planned if you went to all that trouble."

"Actually, no, I just wanted to pull one on you. Sorry, Vin, if it was too mean. Are you still mad?" Rayna asked a little hesitantly. Vinnie glanced at her golden brown eyes and couldn't help but smile.

"Nah, Ray, it's cool. I'll get you back, you'll see," he said casually, glad when she smiled again.

"Sure, I bet. Well, anyway, about today, I have to go to visit some relative today, but I should be back after awhile. We can go rock climbing," Rayna suggested.

"Yeah, that sounds cool. Maybe I'll see what Thrash is up to today," Vinnie decided.

"Sounds good. Hey!" Rayna said suddenly, sitting up and twitching her nose. "I think I smell something cooking at my house!"

"Oh, yeah?" Vinnie asked, perking up. Rayna's mother was famous for her cooking, and breakfasts were her expertise. Rayna stepped over the maze of belongings that were strewn around Vinnie's room and approached the window. She leaned out, peering at her kitchen window below.

"Yep, I think she is. Want some food as a truce?" Rayna offered.

"Agreed!" Vinnie said enthusiastically. He turned and leaned out the door and bellowed to his mom where he was going. When he turned back, Rayna was already halfway out the window, reaching for the little seat that dangled from a pulley the two of them had rigged up years ago.

When Rayna and Vinnie were eight, they both decided they didn't feel like running all the way downstairs and next door. Being bored and wanting a challenge more than anything else, they figured out how to hook a pulley between the windows of their rooms. Since then, even though they knew it really wasn't all that much to run next door, they used the pulley system to visit each other. Vinnie's parents and Rayna's mother didn't mind, but agreed amongst themselves that if they got older and romance between them ever blossomed, that rope would be cut in a heartbeat. But for the present, the two young mice regarded each other as the best of friends, and would grimace if anyone suggested anything else.

Rayna was waiting inside and Vinnie was halfway across when something hard hit him squarely in the side. He yelped and nearly let go of the rope in his surprise. Twisting around, he looked down to see his father, who had just flung Rayna's shoe at him.

"What's the idea?" he yelled down at Tread.

"You been throwing Rayna's shoes out the window again?" Tread called back, picking up the shoe. Vinnie hustled to get to the other side, but couldn't help but reply to his father.

"Yeah, so what? You should've seen what she did to me!"

"I don't know Vin, tossing a lady's shoes…not very gentlemouselike!" Tread replied, chucking the shoe again.

"I'm not a gentlemouse!" Vinnie declared proudly.

"Mmph, got that right," muttered Rayna, reaching out to help him in. Vinnie slipped over the doorframe and ducked as another shoe hurtled through the air. Rayna leaned out and caught it, and snatched up the other shoe as it too sailed through the air.

"Thanks Tread!" she called happily and he waved at her with a smile. Vinnie peeped out at his father and waved.

"Missed me those times!" he bragged.

"You wait, kid," Tread challenged. Vinnie laughed to himself and followed Rayna downstairs, still thinking about his father, whom he idolized. Vinnie fervently hoped that he would resemble his father someday, for the mouse was tall and muscular, a trait that Vinnie currently lacked. He looked like his father in every other respect, with the same white fur and confident grin. The only difference was the eye color: dark gray in Tread's case, whereas Vinnie had the bright ruby red of his mother.

Maybe his dad would let him test out the new bike he was building. Vinnie pondered this and was shaken out of his daydreams only when Rayna's mother set a steaming breakfast before him.

"_That_ woke you up," Rayna remarked, watching him dig in. Vinnie, his mouth full, merely nodded.

"Well, he certainly shows his appreciation," Rayna's mother said with a chuckle, shaking her head at the young mouse. She coughed, pulled her robe closer, and headed to her bedroom. Vinnie and Rayna exchanged looks, and then fell to eating the delicious breakfast.

The two passed the rest of the hour reading comic books and watching TV until Rayna reluctantly kicked him out.

"Gotta go visit that cousin of mine," Rayna said with a pout. "It's so boring over there."

"Yeah, especially since I'll be ripping around with Thrash…and since I'll probably see Graven too," Vinnie added wickedly, snickering at the faint blush that stained her ivory cheeks. She tossed her hair and ignored him as he laughed louder.

"See you later, wise mouse," Rayna said, nudging him out the door.

"See ya, Ray!"

Vinnie jogged home and hurriedly slipped on his bike, wondering if Thrash was awake yet. Now midmorning, the neighborhood was stirring, and Vinnie had to dodge the kids that were playing in the street. He was proud of his low powered motorcycle, and often drove it as if it were a real bike. Of course, mice couldn't ride real motorcycles until they were fifteen, but Vinnie's father had secretly added a few additions to Vinnie's bike that dodged the law and gave the kid something to brag about. Tread had also dedicated plenty of hours teaching his eager son the coolest tricks he could think of that were still legal…nearly.

Thinking about those tricks, Vinnie grinned wickedly when he approached a group of youngsters huddled in a group. He accelerated and zoomed straight for them, and when they began to scream, he veered sharply to the left. His bike nearly went out from under him, and he had to reach out and push down on the pavement to force himself upright, but the kids never noticed. Grinning widely, he turned back and waved as the kids shouted exclamations of awe over the trick.

He was still chuckling when he turned down the street of his other best buddy, Thrash. He mulled over the thought of what they would do, and couldn't decide between video games or riding. Either way, the two of them would have fun.

Thrash had moved into Vinnie's neighborhood only several years prior, hurting from the abandonment of his father and the separation from his two closest friends, who also happened to be his cousins. Thrash had been angry and volatile from the changes that had occurred in his life, but slowly, as he got used to life without his father, the walls began to break down and his true warmth and kindness shone through. The two had struck up a friendship of sorts during the hostile stage, and it had continued to grow over the past year until they were nearly inseparable.

Vinnie passed over Thrash's house, glancing at the darkened windows, and didn't even bother going in. Ever since Thrash's cousins had moved in close by, he was almost constantly at their house, especially since his mother had to work a lot of hours to support herself and two kids. Seeing the stillness of the house, Vinnie aimed his bike across the street at a large, rambling house that, judging from the noise he could hear coming from inside, was more promising.

He skidded to a stop, parked his bike gently and lovingly next to the other bikes, and followed the strains of rock music into the garage. He smiled to see Graven, Thrash's sixteen year old cousin, kneeling on the ground working on his own bike with a determined expression in his dark blue eyes; blue eyes that had a startling contrast against his reddish brown fur. In Vinnie's estimation, Graven was as cool as Throttle…not that he'd ever let the admiration show _too_ plainly.

"Hey Graven, what's up?" Vinnie asked. Graven looked up, the serious expression on his face softening a bit. He twitched his black, shoulder length hair away from him and returned the smile.

"Yo, Vin. Aw, just trying to get this thing to start. It was working fine the other night, and I don't know what's wrong with it. Heck, I'm no mechanic. Hey, do you think your dad could take a look at it?" Graven asked, wiping the oil from his hands and looking up at Vinnie expectantly.

"Yeah, sure, but here…did you try this?" Vinnie leaned down and switched a couple of wires from the open engine and straightened. "Try to rev it." Graven complied and to his surprise, and Vinnie's relief, the motorcycle revved and began to purr smoothly.

"Whoa, Vin, good job! Listen to her purr. You're quite the mechanic." Graven said all of this in his quiet way, but the note of admiration was unmistakable, and Vinnie was delighted and proud. He showed none of this however, and merely replied nonchalantly that it wasn't a big deal. Graven hid a smile over the show of machismo and thanked him, and Vinnie, still tickled, sauntered away.

"Thrash is inside, right?" Vinnie called back before exiting the garage.

"Yeah, he and everyone else in the neighborhood," Graven said with a laugh. Vinnie smiled at the thought and left the music filled garage only to enter the noisier house.

As usual, the house was a riot of sound, motion, and people; an environment that Vinnie loved. He was met immediately by the sight of the youngest member of the family, three year old Mackie, banging an old chewed up drumstick on an overturned pot and belting out an accompanying song in a very off key voice. His cousin and Thrash's sister, four year old Theresa, was engaged in destroying the other drumstick in the pair with her little teeth. Running around in circles was a group of similarly aged children who were unfamiliar to Vinnie. Mackie and Theresa both seemed unfazed by their playmates.

Vinnie sidestepped them, dodged the group of kids, and glanced around for Thrash. He smiled as he saw ten year old Zebbie, playing with a yoyo, watching TV, and talking on the phone at the same time and heard the sounds of a guitar from another room. In the midst of all of it, Dianthia, the mother of the household, was talking on a small, old fashioned vidcom over the noise with the calm of a mother who was raising three boys with two extra to care for and accustomed to streams of their variously aged friends randomly dropping by.

Dianthia was an attractive woman with the reddish brown fur that was passed to all of her children, and the black hair that had been passed to Graven. Vinnie, who was very fond of the strong willed woman, waved at her and she returned the gesture and smoothly rescued the drumstick from Theresa's teeth. She jerked her head in the direction of the adjoining room and Vinnie nodded.

Vinnie turned the corner into the front room, which housed a piano and a cluster of old, well used and comfortable chairs. Perched on the piano bench and strumming the Martian version of a guitar was Thrash. He had a pencil stuck behind one ear and another between his teeth, and papers with notes and scribbled lyrics littered the area around him. He glanced up as Vinnie entered, and his dark brown eyes brightened.

"Hey bro!" he called, removing the pencil and giving Vinnie a high five. "What's up? You're here early."

"Yeah, well, there was a little situation this morning," Vinnie said reluctantly, not particularly willing to share how Rayna had attacked him. Thrash arched an eyebrow.

"A situation, eh?" he repeated and Vinnie shook his head.

"Long story, bro. Long story."

"And obviously it involves you getting tricked or something by someone, or you would be willing to tell," Thrash guessed with a laugh. Vinnie wrinkled his nose and changed the subject.

"What are you writing?"

"Oh, just a few songs," Thrash replied, acknowledging the change in subject without further comment.

"For someone else or just for fun?"

"Just for fun, nothing too fancy," Thrash answered, gathering the papers. He removed the pencil from his dark hair and stood to stretch his long frame. Thrash was a couple inches taller than his buddy, and covered with light, butter yellow fur. Though Vinnie would never admit it, he was not only taller but had a better build as well. With that and his thoughtful, dark brown eyes, longish brown hair, and friendly grin, girls were generally attracted to him, a fact that Vinnie tried hard to ignore and deny.

"So what's up with you today? You wanna hang out?" Thrash asked, setting his guitar aside.

"No, I just came all the way here to say hi and leave," Vinnie said sarcastically, plopping down onto a chair. Thrash smirked and kicked a pencil in his direction.

"Alright smart aleck, what do you want to do?"

"I dunno. Video games…"

"Ugh, no more video games," Thrash protested, closing his eyes. "I spent from after school yesterday until early this morning trying to beat this one game. I figured I had to play it before Theresa discovered it and destroyed it." Vinnie laughed.

"She is a destructive lil' thing," he agreed. "Did you beat it?"

"Nah, I fell asleep…but I'm completely sick of it now, so I guess I've gotten my money's worth."

"Makes sense," Vinnie said with a shrug. "So you wanna go riding or something?"

"Cool. Oh," Thrash said, sitting up a bit. "Zebbie said that he found a really good place to build a campfire and hang out. We should all go over and check it out tonight."

"Yeah, okay! I told Rayna we could go rock climbing, but she'll be fine with that if she can come along," Vinnie complied.

"Yeah, she can come. Heck, I may even convince that redheaded babe to join."

"Renee? No way man. I've tried to score a date with her for weeks, and if I can't, then no on can!" Vinnie said confidently.

"We'll see, bro, we'll see," Thrash said rising to his feet once again. "Let's see what everyone else is doing."

The two wandered into the kitchen to see that the scene had indeed changed. Dianthia had shut off the vidcom and had kicked the random neighborhood kids out and was absorbed in mixing a sweet smelling batter. Mackie, who had been deprived of his pan and drumstick, looked up and saw Vinnie for the first time. With a squeal, he charged headlong into his stomach.

"Oof," Vinnie grunted, but leaned down to gather the kid into his arms. He was normally not one for kids, but for some reason Mackie had fallen in love with Vinnie, and Vinnie had developed a liking for the kid as well. Everyone likes those who idolize them.

"How are ya, Mackie?" Vinnie asked, ruffling the boy's short yellow hair. Mackie wrapped his chubby arms around Vinnie's neck and gave him a surprisingly tight hug, looking up with his happy silver-blue eyes.

"Viinnniee!" he squealed and was immediately distracted from his hero by Theresa, a miniature female replica of Thrash, who tugged at his arm. The two raced away together, holding their fists in front of them and making motorcycle noises with their high pitched voices.

"Ooh, Aunt Di, what's cooking?" Thrash cooed, sidling up beside his aunt. Dianthia shooed him away with her batter covered spoon, and swatted Thrash on the head when he tried to lick it.

"Out!" she commanded. "This is dessert, as in, _after_ lunch!"

"Aw, can't I try a little sample? I won't spoil anything!" Thrash protested.

"Want dessert, want dessert!" Mackie and Theresa screamed shrilly, returning to join the protest. Thrash made a face and covered his ears.

"Would you rather I do that?" he asked, nodding toward them. Dianthia was about to answer when a small form hurtled into the kitchen, tossed the phone and a yoyo to Vinnie, and slid to his knees between the children.

"Please, please, please?!" Zebbie called out, mimicking the children's voices and position. His bright blue eyes sparkled with barely concealed humor and on his face stretched a wide, charming grin. Dianthia, who had worn a look of frustration, couldn't help but smile at her middle son. Those who came in contact with Zebbie always left with a similar reaction.

"You've regressed, Zeb," she joked, ruffling his yellow-blonde hair. "Fine, maybe just one piece…"

"Argh, how do you do it?!" Thrash exclaimed, throwing himself down on the kitchen chair. Vinnie joined him, shaking his head.

"Man, Zeb, I need to take lessons from you. Maybe Ol' Whiskers will stop assigning me all that extra math homework," Vinnie grumbled, fiddling with the yoyo.

Just then, a blast of music filled the room and was cut off as Graven entered and shut the door behind him. He ambled in, humming and wiping the oil off of his hands.

"Graven!" Dianthia called. "Thank goodness, a beacon of sanity. Cart these little beggars out of here," she asked, gesturing at the three who were still stooped by her feet. Graven raised his eyebrow when he saw Zebbie down there with them.

"Sure, easily done," he said with a chuckle. He reached down and clasped Zebbie by his belt loops and shirt before hauling him in the air. Zebbie laughed and grabbed three squares of the confection from the plate that Dianthia held out. He waved them in front of Theresa and Mackie as Graven strolled away with him.

"Come and get 'em!" he called, and the children followed behind with high pitched giggles. Vinnie and Thrash looked at each other and broke into laughter.

"This is one cah-raazy family," Thrash said, jumping to his feet. "I suggest we escape the insanity and go riding."

"I second it!" Vinnie cried, excitement in his voice. "Oh, man, you won't believe the cool gadget Dad added to my bike. It's awesome! Wait 'til you see…"

Their voices faded and Dianthia chuckled as they wandered away. She put the last of her baking away and surveyed the area with her keen, silvery gray eyes. Zebbie was giving her a break by playing ball outside with the little kids. Graven, who had returned after dumping Zebbie, was perched nearby, lovingly bent over a guitar that he had imported from Earth. Seemed like all was right in the world.

Dianthia took a rag out to clean the counter, relishing the moment of relative relaxation. She flicked on the television, reflecting that it had been awhile since she had the chance to see what was going on in the world, and found that it was turned to a news station.

"Next up is breaking news on the government's decision about the rising numbers of Plutarkians occupying our land. So far, the government has asserted that they are simply trying to make a better life for themselves, but recent events of the fish-like beings pillaging natural resources in some more obscure areas have led to concern. We have here one of the top leaders of our—"

"Hey! Anyone here? I'm home!" a voice yelled over the TV. Dianthia flicked the television off, vaguely unsettled about what she had seen. But by the time she had turned to greet her husband and had been attacked by the small bodies of the children, bored with the ball game, she had forgotten the brief report completely.

"So yeah, Dad taught me this awesome trick and it scares the crap out of people. You find a bunch of kids playing in the street or something and then you come flying up to them and just as you reach them-!" Vinnie's excited babbling, which had been going on the entire time they were making their way to their bikes, was cut off suddenly when Zebbie sidled up beside them.

"Hey," he piped up, bouncing a rubber ball on the ground.

"Hey Zeb," Thrash said, sliding onto his bike. "We're going for a ride, but if you're up for it we can head to that place you found later on today."

"Yeah okay!" Zebbie said with a happy grin. Vinnie and Thrash revved their bikes and were about to take off when Zebbie spoke casually. "That's good because, uh, I think that girl Renee is interested in joining."

"What?!" Vinnie and Thrash yelped in one voice. Zebbie glanced up slyly.

"Heh, that stopped you," he chuckled.

"How do you know she's coming?" Thrash asked dubiously.

"I know 'cause I talked to her on the phone today and asked her to join us," Zebbie said nonchalantly, but barely able to hide his grin of delight at their shocked reactions.

"You…how…man, I tried to ask her out weeks ago and she froze me!" Vinnie exclaimed. "Uh, I mean, she had other things to do," he corrected himself hastily.

"So, you called her?" Thrash asked, sizing up his younger cousin.

"Well, yeah. I was sitting on a bench waiting for you to get out of class and she walked by and I said hi and we got to talking. So I called her up and chatted for awhile. She didn't mind, so I think we're friends now." Zebbie suddenly looked up and flashed an infectious grin. "Well, I'm going inside, but you can pay me back later. See ya!" With a laugh and a wave, he ran off in the direction of some kids waving skateboards.

Thrash and Vinnie looked at each other, shook their heads, and revved their bikes again.

"Don't know how the kid does it," Thrash muttered, and then laughed at the thought of it. "But in a way, he is doing us a favor!"

"Doing you a favor, you mean," Vinnie grumbled as they road along. "I'm not interested in a date. Yeah, I've set my sights on another cutie that has some more free time."

"That's cool," Thrash remarked, glancing at his friend. "It never hurts to gain a friend though."

"Hmph."

* * *

"I have more logs!"

"Zeb, did you bring the football?"

"Yep!"

"Football?"

"Yeah, football in the dark is the best!"

"If you want to break your neck!"

"Babe, I live for danger."

"Call me babe again and I'll show _you_ some danger."

"Oooh."

The fire crackled and snapped, casting its soft glow over the gathered youth. The sun was just fading and already to two moons shone softly, adding its pale light to the light of the fire. Zebbie, who had just arrived with his backpack, dropped the bag to the ground and tossed the football to Vinnie.

"Yeah! Football in the dark! Who's playing me?"

Thrash leapt to his feet and when everyone else gave them strange looks and shook their heads, they shrugged and crashed through the branches and brush, their shouts echoing from the woods.

"Yo, Vin-man, above your head!" Thrash yelled. Vinnie tried to follow the dark form of the football as it spiraled into the air. With a grunt, he lunged and caught it, nearly tripping over a root in the process.

"Careful!" Thrash called, hearing the sound of Vinnie's shoe against the root and seeing his silhouette lurch forward. "One false step and you could be the next martian mouse shish-kabob!"

"I know, isn't it awesome?!" laughed Vinnie, whipping the football toward his friend. Thrash chuckled and caught the ball, twisting his body to avoid a mass of brush.

"You like some action? Going long, friend!" hooted Thrash. Vinnie grinned as the ball soared overhead, and he accelerated, pushing through vines and leaping over roots and rocks. He was just reaching out for the ball, his fingertips straining, when he caught his foot in a low hanging vine. He gasped, pitched forward, and realized in a quick split second that he was about to get a face full of bog; a mixture of slimy, smelly, wet substances that often appeared in dark forests. Before he could prepare himself, he felt the fabric of his sweatshirt jerked so sharply that the collar pressed against his throat.

"Ugh!" he coughed, scrambling to get his legs underneath him. As soon as he was upright, he swatted the hand that held his shirt away.

"Sheesh, Thrash, just crush my windpipe why don't you…wait…" Vinnie, his hand still rubbing his throat, cut his complaint short as he peered at the figure crouched on a boulder that rimmed the bog. "Who're you?" he demanded.

The figure moved slightly and suddenly the two were bathed in a dim light. Vinnie looked from the old fashioned lantern to the person holding it aloft and suddenly didn't know what to say.

The figure was small and thin, his skinniness amplified by clothes that were far too big. His coloring was similar to Zebbie's, but the similarities ended there. His short, oddly cut hair was a bright yellow, and his blue eyes were dark and smaller than Zebbie's, with a sad and guarded expression. His fur was dark brown and, though always clean, occasionally in need of a trim. His face habitually wore a cautious frown. As he held the lantern aloft, it was clear that he was at loss for words as well.

"Johnny, what are you doing here?" Vinnie asked awkwardly. Just as the young mouse, a schoolmate, was about to answer, Thrash bounded up next to them.

"Whoa, Vin, forget shish-kabob, you were about to become the main ingredient in bog stew. Gross, dude. How did you…oh…Johnny? Is that you? What are you doing here?"

"Um…planting…" Johnny said vaguely in his nearly imperceptible voice, gesturing at a patch of newly dug ground. Thrash and Vinnie waited for him to continue, but he kept silent.

"Soo…uh, yeah, thanks for grabbing me, man. I guess we'll be going…catch you in school, yeah?" Johnny nodded and Vinnie was about to edge away when he saw that Thrash wasn't moving. Thrash looked at Vinnie, then thoughtfully at Johnny.

"Hey, you want to join us? We're having a campfire, a bunch of us. We're just hanging out, cooking up some food. There's plenty to go around if you want some," Thrash said in a sudden rush. Johnny's eyes widened in surprise.

"Well…um…I…" Johnny stammered. Thrash reached out at thumped him on the shoulder.

"Well, think about it. We're pretty much straight ahead that way, by a little clearing. I'm sure you'll be able to hear people talking, and when the food gets cooking you should smell it. Come on over whenever, we'll be there." With another smile, Thrash waved and the two of them walked away.

"That dude is creepy, why did you invite him?" Vinnie asked in a low voice as soon as they were a good distance away. Thrash glanced over his shoulder, and though Vinnie couldn't see his face, he knew his friend well enough to guess at the warm, sympathetic expression that he wore.

"Vin…I know I haven't known him for as long as you, but…I think he's on his own, you know? I mean, I don't think he has any family or anything. I feel like it's the secret that everyone knows, but no one knows what to do about it. He's so skinny and did you see what he was doing?"

"Planting," Vinnie replied thoughtfully.

"Seriously, I really think he's alone in the world. At least we can give him some food and friendship or something. I dunno," Thrash said with a shrug. Vinnie glanced sideways at his friend.

"Softie," he joked, jabbing him in the ribs.

"Not always," Thrash shot back, making a fist pointedly, and both of them laughed.

"Yo, jokers, I can hear you but I can't see you! Come eat!" a female voice called.

"That's Rayna for you, ears sharp as a knife!" Vinnie said, quickening his step.

"I can smell camp!" Thrash shouted.

By the time they reached camp, their mouths were watering and their stomachs growling. Graven lifted a skewer of the round, flavorful balls of meat and placed it carefully on a rack with several more skewers, still smoking with the heat. Vinnie dropped down between Rayna and Zebbie, eyeing Thrash as he sat casually next to Renee, the new addition to the group, who had fallen prey to Zebbie's powers of charm and persuasion. Vinnie was going to listen in on their conversation to see if Thrash was going to be blasted with the same ice he had received, but he was distracted with a small, hollowed round of bread jammed with the meatballs was shoved into his face.

"Mmmm…" Rayna said, waving it around. "You want this, don't ya?" Vinnie snatched for it, but Rayna swiftly jerked it away and took a bite.

"Aw, it's so wrong to taunt a hungry mouse!" Vinnie cried, poking her in the ribs.

"Chill, there's enough to go around. Here," Rayna said, chuckling as she reached for the bread.

"There's enough for a small army, so keep eating," Graven said, making the small meals quickly. The group quickly fell into eating and chatting between bites. Thrash and Renee were making small talk, Thrash being careful to be casual and friendly. Graven had sat near Rayna, to her delight, and she was trying not to blush as she asked questions about his new Earth made guitar, and listened contently to his quiet, deep voice as he explained the communication and transport of the rare instrument. Vinnie was left to chat with Zebbie, who, despite his younger age, was a trip to talk to. Vinnie was eagerly describing the latest motorcycle race he had seen when Zebbie, who had been listening avidly, suddenly straightened and peered off into the distance.

"Hey!" he called, jumping to his feet. The group quieted and looked to see the hesitant figure of Johnny hovering on the edges of the campfire. He looked frightened to see that all eyes were on him and began to edge away.

"So, uh, Renee, southern Mars…what's the weather like there?" Thrash said, continuing his conversation with the lady. Renee, a little puzzled, answered and Graven took the hint and resumed his conversation with Rayna. Zebbie, trying to be unobtrusive, caught Johnny before he left. Vinnie watched as the two of them talked somewhat easily, at least on Zebbie's part. Zebbie gestured toward the food and spoke with his magnetic grin. Johnny finally followed Zebbie to the campfire.

"Hey Johnny, have a seat," Vinnie said, gesturing beside him and trying to be friendly to make up for his rudeness. Johnny quietly took a seat and Vinnie watched the expression of delight and relief that crossed his face when Graven reached over and handed him soft round of bread full of piping hot meatballs.

"Dig in dude, there's so much food," Zebbie said lightly, flopping down beside Johnny. Vinnie watched as Johnny, for the first time that he could remember, smiled.

Vinnie caught Thrash's eye and they both shared a quick grin. _Thrash's a good guy,_ Vinnie thought, _and no one will probably ever know that he's the one who invited this beggar here._ He sat quietly for a moment, content to observe, when a hand clamped down on his head.

"Whoa!" he cried, nearly jumping out of his fur. "What the…" he tried to crane around to see who had a hold of him, but figured it out quickly when the stranger spoke.

"You'd better cough up my comics, Vincent." A smile flashed across Vinnie's face, and he swatted the hand away from his head.

"Sheesh, Throttle, nice way to greet your friend!" Vinnie said sarcastically. "What comics?" Throttle remained standing, his hands now jammed into his pockets.

"What's wrong, did I scare you?" Throttle asked slyly, a mischievous grin on his handsome face.

"Tsh, you can't scare me!" Vinnie said cockily.

"Oh, but I can," Rayna said, shooting Vinnie a sly smile. Vinnie reddened and muttered something under his breath.

"Yo, I'm back here, kid. Comics? They pulled a disappearing act," Throttle pressed.

"I swear, I don't have 'em…I…ouch!" Vinnie yelped as Throttle gave his ears a tug.

"Um…Throttle?" Rayna spoke up a little sheepishly. "I think I have them. Sorry."

"Ha!" Vinnie yelled triumphantly. "You got the wrong mouse! She's the thief!" She…hey, ouch, why are you still tugging _my_ ears?"

"It's more fun messing with you," Throttle replied. "Besides, I know Rayna will give them back, right Ray?"

"Of course!"

"Sounds good. Oh, hey everybody," Throttle said, greeting the group for the first time. Vinnie and Throttle were quite close after spending so much time together, but their circle of friends didn't generally mix, save for Rayna. They all greeted him warmly despite not knowing him well, and Graven began to slap together another meal. Throttle suddenly turned and gestured to a very tall, large mouse who had been standing quietly next to him.

"Oh, sorry…everyone, this is Modo. We met up at a sports game after school. He moved here from across town."

"Hey y'all," the large gray mouse boomed. The group answered their greeting and Zebbie held his small hand up to be slapped. When Graven offered them food, they joined the circle.

The night waned on as the circle of friends talked, laughed, played cards, and experimented with roasting insects. That is to say, Vinnie, Thrash, and Zebbie experimented with the insects, having no end of fun to crashing through the woods and around the fire grabbing at the bugs, and then grossing themselves and everyone else out by cooking and eating them. The gang mixed well, and even Johnny shared a brief conversation with a few of them. More food than they thought would be possible was consumed, and as they packed away the all they could of the meat, sweets, and other snacks, they sat back with a collective sigh.

"Ahhh…" Vinnie said, leaning back. He stretched his arms and torso, and then casually wrapped his arms around Rayna. Rayna was in the process of shooting him a puzzled look when Vinnie snuggled closer to her, brought his face toward her cheek…and belched loudly in her ear.

"Argh!" Rayna yelled, pummeling him with her fists amid the peals of laughter and groans that broke out from the group.

"Mmm…I believe that was one of the winged insects," Vinnie mused, rubbing his stomach.

"Ugh, get me a puke pail," Throttle groaned.

"That's disgusting. Want me to beat him up?" Renee offered.

"Sure!" Rayna replied.

"No!" Vinnie yelled at the same time. Vinnie blushed as laughter rang out again. Contentment settled over the group again as their laughter died into chuckles and they realized again how full they were. They talked quietly and Graven pulled out his guitar and strummed randomly, his eyes roving peacefully over his friends. After a few moments, Zebbie broke into a grin, hearing a melody in Graven's strumming.

"I know that song!" he called. Everyone quieted and Graven began to sing softly, his deep voice washing over all of them.

_I heard you crying_

_Somebody stole my soul_

_How could I be dying?_

_I turned 20 five days ago_

Zebbie and Thrash picked up the harmony and sang, their voices blending perfectly with Graven's.

_We're all on the ground just crying out_

_Somebody save me please_

_I won't sit around just thinking about_

_The trouble that tomorrow brings._

Vinnie never professed to have a perfect voice, but he could hold a note when he wanted, as could Rayna. They joined quietly, not wanted to disrupt the harmony. Vinnie noticed that Throttle's mouth was moving as well as he listened, and Modo was watching with interest, wanting to catch the lyrics.

_I'm dying to be alive_

_I'm dying to be alive_

_Let's not go through our lives_

_Without just dying to be alive, yeah…_

Graven strummed his guitar and Rayna, sleepy, leaned back against Vinnie's shoulder. Vinnie shifted around and slung his arm loosely around her. Renee was transfixed with Graven's guitar and Thrash's voice and, though she wasn't as familiar with the song, she added her voice to theirs by humming the melody, and it was surprisingly beautiful and rich.

_Mistakes I've made in this life_

_I can't say why or when_

_But the thing that's strange is that you only live once_

_Never look back again_

_I'm dying to be alive_

_Not trying to just survive_

_Let's not go through this life_

_Without just dying to be alive._

All of their voices were joined and the woods seemed to fall silent to listen to the chorus of young mice. Their world was a place a peace, their lives were blank slates, waiting to be lived.

_I'm dying to be alive_

_Not trying to just survive_

_Let's not go through this life_

_Without just dying to be alive!_

They fell silent with a few chuckles as Graven continued to play. Unexpectedly, he added some lines that they hadn't heard before and they listened attentively, even Vinnie, who had been sitting still longer than he could usually stand.

_And we all come tumbling down_

_No matter how strong_

_We all return to the ground_

_In the days to come you'll say "why did I wait?"_

_You can't just leave your life up to fate_

_You got to turn it around before it's too late…_

Graven's voice fell silent and he strummed once last time, the sound of the guitar slowly dying down into silence. They sat for a moment, watching the dying sparks each to his or her thoughts. Suddenly…

"I'm hungry again," Vinnie blurted. The gang broke into laughter and swatted him with leaves and twigs.

"We'll pick you up some fast food," Thrash said dryly, standing to stretch. "Probably time to break camp." Reluctantly everyone agreed and each fell to the task of gathering the supplies and chatting. Once the fire was stamped out and the clearing was returned to its former state, they tramped off toward civilization, calling their farewells as they parted ways. Johnny, after pocketing the leftover food that Zebbie pressed him to take, disappeared into the woods. Throttle and Modo offered rides on their motorcycles and Renee, who had farther to go, took them up on the offer. Thrash, Graven, Zebbie, Rayna, and Vinnie trudged toward home together. As they walked on, the moons of Mars watched them, and the haunting song that they had sung seemed still to hover in the air.

* * *

Charley jumped and looked at Vinnie expectantly, waking from a light doze. The remainder of that horrible day was long and the night stretched on endlessly, and now, as the sun climbed higher in the sky on the beginning of the second day of Vinnie's coma, Charley, Throttle, and Modo had hardly moved. Charley still kept her perch next to Vinnie, watching for any movement. They had decided to lay low, hoping in vain that Vinnie would come out of his trance and figuring that it would be best to wait and catch Limburger off guard.

The two mice, after deciding that Vinnie was not going to wake up on his own, popped open a can each of rootbeer and sat to discuss the best way of ambushing their enemy. It was a rare sight, as the mice generally fought first and planned later, but they knew that there would be risks involved that weren't present before. Throttle was contemplating whether or not he should try to push Vinnie ahead in his memories a bit more before they took off. Charley stretched her sore limbs and shook herself awake. Just as she was about to go make herself some coffee, she saw and heard something that jolted her awake.

"Guys!" she called. "He moved!" Throttle and Modo dashed to the sofa and watched intently. Sure enough, Vinnie moved, and a strange, calm smile spread over his face.

"See ya later, Thrash," he mumbled. "Bye, Rayna."

"Is he still in the past?" Charley asked.

"Looks like it," Throttle said grimly.

"It's like he's talkin' in his sleep," Modo mused. Slowly, Vinnie turned his head from side to side on the pillow, as if he was tossing in his sleep, and smiled again.

"I'm dying to be alive, not trying to just survive. Let's not go through this life, without just dying to be alive…" Vinnie sang, his voice off key as a very tired person would sing. Though the melody wasn't quite right, Throttle and Modo both drew in their breath at a song they hadn't heard in eight years. Charley glanced at their faces and saw that each wore an expression that was a mixture of pain, surprise, and even longing.

She watched quietly as Modo rose and headed toward his bike as if fiddling with the knobs and cleaning the chrome yet another time would make everything okay. Throttle seemed to be suffering the most of the two. He stood over Vinnie and bowed his head, his fists clenching and unclenching. His brow was furrowed and his mouth was pressed in a tight line. Charley wished she could see what expression his shades concealed.

Suddenly, he looked up and spoke in a voice that told Charley that it was not a good day to be Limburger.

"Let's get 'im."


	4. Chapter 4

_Eight years ago on Mars_

Shandria was sitting rigidly at the kitchen table, bent over a small radar of sorts and fiddling with the knobs. The television was blasting out information about the weather, yet despite the high volume the wind still roared audibly, lashing rain and sprays of mud against the house.

Suddenly, the door was flung open and two miniature windstorms rushed in.

"Whoa-hahaha!" Vinnie cried, stumbling in the kitchen and slamming the door behind him. He wiped the mud and rain from his face and blinked. "I guess today wasn't a good day for rock climbing, huh Rayna?"

"You're telling me!" Rayna sputtered, trying to clean her face. Vinnie stared at her, his eyes growing wide, and burst out laughing.

"Hey look, you've been crowned Miss Mud!" he hooted, pointing at her waterlogged clothes and wild, mud splattered hair. Rayna scowled at her friend and attempted to smear him with some of the red, wet glop.

"Sensitivity, wow, I love that in a mouse," Rayna said sarcastically. Vinnie was about to retort when Shandria spoke for the first time.

"My son may have no manners, Rayna, but that doesn't mean that I don't. Feel free to shower off if you want. Vinnie can clean up the mess he's made in my kitchen while you're at it." Rayna thanked her and made a triumphant face at Vinnie, who was howling in protest. Shandria, her eyes never leaving the radar, pointed in the direction of the mop. Muttering, Vinnie peeled off his wet clothes, threw on some sweats that were in the laundry room, and went to work.

They continued in silence for a moment, broken only by the weather, the sloshing of the mop, and the steady blips of the radar.

The silence was abruptly broken when the door was flung open again and another figure threw himself in the sanctuary of the warm house.

"Phew!" heaved Thrash, shaking his wet hair and fur.

"No!" bellowed Vinnie, looking aghast at the new puddles. Thrash looked from Vinnie to the puddles then to the mop and back to Vinnie's face.

"Oops," he squeaked meekly. Shandria looked up and couldn't help but laugh at the look on her son's face.

"Thrash!" she called grandly. "Welcome! Make yourself at home while Vinnie finishes up there…or starts over…"

"No way!" Vinnie cried shoving the mop in Thrash's hands. "I cleaned up _my _mess!

"Oh well, all's fair in love, war, and housework," Thrash said with a philosophical shrug. He carefully hung up his wet jacket, graciously accepted a towel from Shandria to dry his face and hair, and got to work. Vinnie collapsed on one of the chairs.

"Crazy storm out there, huh," Vinnie mused, looking with interest at the lashing rain.

"Yeah, it just about blew me over here," Thrash quipped. Vinnie smirked and nodded, leafing through the mail. When he glanced at one letter, he threw the other documents down and howled dramatically.

"Who died?" Shandria and Thrash both demanded at the same time.

"My next weekend!" Vinnie said empathetically, flinging the letter on the table. "Check it out!"

"Oh, Vinnie, you're so dramatic. It's just a wedding," Shandria said, picking up the document.

"Please say it's not in our district," Vinnie said, covering his face.

"Hate to break it to you, Vin…" Thrash said, reading over Shandria's shoulder. Vinnie growled and buried his head in his arms.

"Oh man, boredom city!" he moaned.

"What's boring?" Rayna asked, entering the room, still toweling her hair. She had evidently raided Vinnie's dresser and was wearing his flannels and an oversized sweatshirt. She prepared herself for his outraged bellowing over the theft of his clothes, but he barely noticed.

"A wedding! I hate weddings! They're so long and…so…_wedding-y_!" His three companions broke into laughter over his newly coined word. Thrash slapped his shoulder.

"Cheer up, friend, at least you can bring a date," Thrash comforted. Vinnie grunted and Rayna look perplexed. She smiled, however, when Thrash met her eyes.

"Oh, it can't be that bad, it's just one day. Besides," she said, sweeping up her hair and mimicking the haughty tone and stance of their history teacher. "one must follow all of the sacred Martian _traditions_ that has written our history. Whenever two people are married it is _tradition_ that all those in said couple's district should be witness to the union. It is, in a word, _tradition._" Thrash was rocking back in his chair with laughter at this point, and even Vinnie couldn't stop a chuckle.

"Oh well, what can ya do. So who's the happy couple?" Vinnie asked half-heartedly. Shandria whistled as she read the names.

"Says here the lucky male is none other than Xavier Starvosen, and that his bride is a girl name Zelena…hmm, doesn't say a last name."

"Xavier Starvosen?" Thrash said, pricking up his ears at the familiar name. "He's that new face on the Governmental Council, isn't he?" Shandria glanced up and smiled.

"Wow, Thrash, I'm impressed." Thrash shrugged at the praise.

"What can I say, my mother is a news buff. He's the one making all the noise about the Plutarkians occupying some Martian territory."

"What's he care?" Vinnie asked, doodling rockets and motorcycles on the expensive wedding invitation.

"He keeps on insisting that they're here to take over and such, that they've already absorbed several other planets and that they have their sights set on Mars next."

"I thought they were just seeking refuge," Rayna asked, absently braiding her hair. "That's what the other council members say, anyway."

"Yeah, I guess there's some disagreement. I've heard— " Thrash's voice was suddenly cut off and Shandria leapt to her feet and shrieked. The three youths jumped and stared as she pointed to her radar with a grin that stretched across her face.

"Yes!" she shouted. "A whirlwind has formed! Woohoo!" She dashed out to the garage and bellowed out the door to her husband. "Tread, come on, a whirlwind, let's go!" Vinnie rolled his eyes as the other two gaped at his mother, who was busily checking to make sure her waterproof video camera was charged and ready.

"Aw, Mom, another one?" complained Vinnie with a sigh. "You just filmed one last week."

"Vincent, all weather patterns are highly unique. Tread! Hurry up!"

Tread walked in with a sigh as his giddy wife was jamming on her heavy slicker.

"Shandria, are you sure…"

"Oh come on, are you a mouse or a man?" Shandria chided. Tread held his hands up defensively, his eyes wide.

"A mouse, a mouse!"

"Then come on!" Tread sighed and her outburst, but couldn't help a smile that formed at his wife's excitement. She was the wild one of the family, outwardly restrained and easy going, but with the love for the adrenaline rush that came with dangerous situations. Tread would have been content to just sit and watch from inside.

"Alright, let's go. Vinnie," Tread said with mock solemnity, "if we both die in this crazy venture, you should probably stay with Rayna or Thrash. You wouldn't last a week on your own." Vinnie waved cheerfully.

"Sure, can I have your bike if you go?" Vinnie asked with a grin.

"Ha ha, yeah, and all of my blueprints too. Wouldn't want them falling into the wrong hands."

"Ugh, chill, we'll be back for dinner," Shandria said, practically shoving him out the door. "Bye Vinnie sweetie, see ya Rayna and Thrash!"

"Have fun in the elements!" Vinnie said in farewell. His parents wrenched open the door and hurled themselves into the wind. The door slammed, and Vinnie heard the revving sounds of the engine of the large, heavy duty truck that his parents owned for such situations.

"Whoa, your parents…" Thrash said, trailing off.

"Completely explain you," Rayna finished with a laugh. Vinnie punched her lightly and made a face.

"I don't do stuff like that," he protested.

"True," Rayna conceded. "You don't plan as well…ouch!" Thrash shook his head over them and stretched out, still mulling over the dropped topic of the Plutarkians.

"Hey, you two…" he said slowly. "What do you think? You don't really think they're going to take over, do you? There have been rumors that they did just that with other planets…taken over, decimated everyone, and used up the resources."

"I dunno," Rayna said thoughtfully, playing with the purple stone that always hung around her neck. "I had thought that the official reports said that the people had sold their own planets and continued to live. We have no reason to sell ourselves here."

"Who cares!" Vinnie said, throwing down the pen on the near unrecognizable wedding invitation. "There's only like, what, five Plutarkians here on Mars? My biggest concern is how I can suck the most fun out of next week so I can have it stored up for the colossal boredom that will be my break next weekend."

"I propose video games!" Thrash said, dropping the serious subject.

"I second it!" Vinnie said, rising enthusiastically. Rayna shrugged and joined them as they started down the stairs. Suddenly…

"Hey, Rayna, what's the deal? You're wearing my clothes!"

"Vinnie, your perception overwhelms me."

* * *

"There," Charley said with a sigh, putting down a screwdriver and inspecting Modo's helmet with pursed lips. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes and glanced at Vinnie, still in the same position, and then over to Throttle who was talking with some difficulty on a slow, static filled vidcom to Stoker. Modo reached across the table and patted her hand gently.

"Are you okay, Charley ma'am?" Modo asked with concern. Charley shook herself out of her reverie and smiled.

"Yeah, I'll be alright. I was just thinking. Thanks for caring," Charley replied with a smile. Modo nodded, worriedly regarding her pale face and the dark circles under her eyes. He was just about to caution her to be careful, when Throttle entered the room.

"So what did you cook for us, Charley?" Throttle asked, surveying his helmet. Charley straightened, resuming her strong, factual tone of voice.

"I examined the needle and casing that hit Vinnie, the one that you picked up. I used the scanning technology on your bikes to scan in the images of the casing and needle. I then imported the information into your helmets. Now, I don't know much about Martian helmets, but I know that you've used the screens of your helmets to zoom in on objects and target missiles, right?"

"Sure do," Throttle replied.

"Well, if you activate the new scanner I imported, then you should be able to detect the oncoming of the little needles, just in case Limburger's lackeys are waiting to hit you two with the same medicine. I hope it works."

"Sounds real good, Charley ma'am," Modo said with a grin.

"Yep, always looking out for us," Throttle chimed in, squeezing her shoulder. Charley smiled her thanks, and realized suddenly how much she missed Vinnie's exuberant praise, even though she often thought was somewhat annoying at the time.

"So, here's the plan," Throttle said, rubbing his hands together. "We storm Limburger's Tower, but in a way that's as unobtrusive as possible. One of us grabs Fish-head, and the other grabs Karbunkle."

"And then we pound them to pulp until they give us a way to bring Vinnie back!" Modo finished eagerly, pounding and nearly splitting the table with his large fist. He shot an apologetic look to Charley, who had barely noticed. Throttle followed her gaze and sighed, hoping that she wouldn't forget to sleep and eat. Seeing Vinnie reminded him of his conversation with Stoker.

"There's one thing I have to try with Vinnie," Throttle said, stepping to his young friend's side. "Stoker pointed out that there's another way to get him closer to our world, other than pushing him through the years. See, there are various levels of Searchers. Vinnie is in the deepest level, as he is reliving every moment of his life in real time. The second level, however, is a little lighter and focuses on the most memorable parts of Vinnie's life. For example, if he had a day in which one memorable thing happened, the rest of the day would just rush by and he would stop and fully relive the clear memory.

"I think that if I pull him to the second level, then he might be in a shallower coma and may have a slight awareness of what is going on around here. It might also be easier to wake him once we pump Karbunkle for information."

"Worth a shot," Charley agreed. "Think you can do it?"

"I'll try."

Taking a deep breath yet again, Throttle stepped over to his friend and leaned down, touching Vinnie's antennae with his own. He drew in another breath, closed his eyes, and concentrated. With every fiber of his being, he willed Vinnie to draw closer to this world. Modo and Charley watched tensely and Throttle began to shudder from effort, breaking out into a sweat. With a short yell of pain he stopped, backing away.

"Ooh," he groaned, pressing his hands against his forehead. Modo steadied him and Charley ran to get a glass of water.

"Did it work?" Modo asked, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice. Throttle blinked and gratefully accepted the rootbeer Charley held out.

"I can't say for sure," he answered slowly, surveying Vinnie. "I feel that it did, but who knows? At least I tried." Modo and Charley waited silently until Throttle shook himself and rose to his feet.

"Let's roast some fish."


	5. Chapter 5

_Colors and faces suddenly rushed past in a dizzying blend of sights and sound. Vinnie, unable to move, think, or speak, watched blankly as he saw quick, flashing scenes: long, boring school days, food fights in the cafeteria, dinner with his family, video games, bike riding, television, and valuable time spent in the garage working on a bike with his father. Slowly, he became aware of the fact that he was an observer, and a glimmer of thought flitted through his brain._

_ "Am I in my past? What's going on? Who's voice…Charley? She can't be on Mars…what…" Just as the images began to fade and just as he began to see himself once more, the whirling parade of sight and sound halted. The scene became clear, the voices audible, and Vinnie once again faded into the tapestry of his life._

"Vincent! Come down here now, we're going to be late!" Shandria bellowed up the stairs.

"No! I look like an idiot! I am not going anywhere in these stupid clothes."

"Vincent, you will go there if I have to drag you by your tail!"

"Come up here and do it!"

"Alright."

"Oh, you have got to be kidding…hey! Ow! Okay, I'm coming!" Vinnie cried. Shandria released her son's tail and guided him firmly down the stairs. Vinnie smoothed his tail and glared at his mother.

"Aw, I don't know why I have to go to this stupid thing, especially dressed like _this_," he said pointedly, tugging the collar of his black suit. Shandria straightened his tie and tried to smooth down his fur, but Vinnie batted her hands away.

"Oh, relax Vincent," Shandria said, exasperated. "It's not going to last all that long and besides, you promised Rayna you would escort her." Vinnie sighed and thought back to the conversation he had had with his best lady friend. She had been noticeably somber in the days leading up to this big event, and after much prodding finally admitted that she didn't have an escort. Vinnie knew that she had been hoping that Graven would ask her, and also knew that Graven probably wasn't even aware of Rayna's attraction to him.

"No worries, Ray, I'll take you. I mean, I have to go anyway, we might as well go together," he had offered before cramming half a sandwich into his mouth. Rayna had accepted, touched by the offer.

Now, Vinnie was wishing he had kept his mouth shut so that he could feign sickness to get out of this dull event. Tread entered the room in his black suit, laughing at the sullen look on his son's face.

"Aw, you'll make it Vinnie. Just keep thinking of that motocross race we're going to next weekend. Front row seats, possibly a visit to the pit and garage, piles of junk food…" Tread broke off with a happy sigh, and was glad to see Vinnie's face light up.

"That's right! Man, I can't wait for that!" Vinnie exclaimed, his mood completely altered. Tread chuckled and ruffled the hair that Shandria had just smoothed.

"Just you and me, kid," he promised. Vinnie smiled, and was about to reply when the door creaked open hesitantly.

"Hello?" a voice called.

"Yo, Rayna, just in time. If we leave early we can stop and get some foo…" Vinnie trailed off in mid sentence as Rayna entered the room. Completely unaware of his expression, he gazed at her, mouth agape, as Tread and Shandria exchanged amused looks.

Rayna was dressed in a flowing, layered dress of various shades of lavender. The top layer was the lightest color and was made of a filmy, sheer material that allowed the darker lavender tunic to show through. Her hair was partially pulled back and pinned with silver clips. Of course, the purple stone necklace she always wore was around her neck, blending perfectly with the ensemble. She blushed faintly at the expression on Vinnie's face, yet felt a little uncertain.

"What," she said with a nervous laugh. "Do I look okay?" Vinnie gave himself a mental shake and smiled.

"Y-Yeah, you look real nice. You should wear that dress to the next dance or something." Rayna smiled and nodded and after an awkward pause, she changed the subject.

"My mom can't come today. She's…well, it'll just be me," Rayna said, addressing Tread and Shandria. Shandria reached out and squeezed Rayna's hand.

"That's alright, dear," she said with an unusual tenderness. "Vinnie's escorting you anyway, so just come with us. Your father's necklace looks lovely with that dress."

"Thank you," Rayna said softly, touching the precious stone. Vinnie realized he was staring at her again and coughed awkwardly. Tread looked between them, bit back a chuckle, and clapped his hands together.

"Okay kids, let's go. Rayna, you will be the prettiest girl there, next to my wife of course. Everyone ready? Let's move out!"

The four piled into the truck used for weather tracking, so not to splatter their clothes with red mud. They drove out to the edge of town, joining the stream of people that turned out for the event. They parked on a semi-circle on the outskirts of a wide path leading to a forest. Vinnie sighed as they stopped and muttered until Rayna jabbed him.

They got out of the car and joined the crowd of people that headed down the path. Vinnie scanned the crowd and quickly spotted Thrash, holding Renee's arm in a courtly fashion. Thrash caught Vinnie's eye and waved, and Renee flipped her red curls back and rolled her ruby eyes jokingly in Vinnie's direction. The two had struck up a comfortable, bantering relationship ever since she began to spend more time with Thrash, and Vinnie was content with that.

Dianthia and Cannon soon arrived with Graven, Zebbie, and Mackie in tow, somehow all dressed impeccably. As the adults began to chat, Vinnie took Rayna's hand and tried to edge closer to his friends. Tread noticed and waved him off, mouthing "motocross." With a broad smile, Vinnie pushed through the crowd to stand alongside his pals.

"Nice threads there, Thrash," Vinnie snickered, plucking at Thrash's sleeve.

"Don't make fun of me, you look about ready to be displayed in a department store window," Thrash retorted.

"Fphth. I look like a stud." Vinnie smiled proudly, but immediately scowled when Renee made a big show of trying not to laugh.

"Hey, isn't that the new mouse, Modo? What's he doing here? He's not in our district, is he?" Rayna asked abruptly, pointing at the gray mouse several yards ahead.

"Yeah, Xavier is a cousin or something," Zebbie piped up, standing on tiptoes to see. Thrash rolled his eyes jokingly and grinned.

"You _would_ know that," he said, ruffling his younger cousin's hair fondly.

They moved down the path, talking and joking until they came to the entrance of the great forest. Almost simultaneously, the mice fell quiet.

This forest was not a place to camp or run through with a football, or even to casually hike. This was their Sacred Place. Each village or town had a place like this, whether it was forest or mountain side. Through the Sacred Place, the mice walked softly, and talked in hushed tones. Even Vinnie, as he stepped quietly through the patches of shade and gently pushed aside the low hanging boughs, knew to be respectful. This forest, with his tall, ancient trees, moist soil, and carpets of flowers and moss, was home to weddings, memorial services, and occasionally a place of prayer.

Vinnie felt Rayna draw in a soft breath, her body tense. Rayna was accustomed to this forest, for it was here that she went when the memorial service for her father was held, and it was here that she went often to pray for the health of her ill mother. Vinnie glanced over and saw that she had wrapped her fist around the necklace. Gently, he reached over and placed his hand around her fist. He loosened her hand and held it in his own, smiling into her startled eyes.

"It'll be alright," he breathed quietly. Pausing, he took a breath and plunged on. "Your Dad would think you look beautiful…I bet he'd be proud." Rayna's eyes filled with tears, surprise at his sudden kindness etched on her face. Vinnie blushed and looped her arm through his, and Graven, watching both of them, smiled.

Further into the forest, on the edge of Vinnie's consciousness but out of his sight, Xavier Starvosen paced behind a large, screened platform that had been set up for the event. Young and tall, with bright, intelligent eyes and quick speech, Xavier was a mouse filled with fierce loyalty and high idealism for Mars. Able to laugh and speak with genuine kindness in one moment and viciously cut down his opponent with a hailstorm of words in the next, Xavier astounded most who met him and, needless to say, was generally successful in persuading others to agree with him.

Lately, his head had been filled with arguments and evidence to be used against the Plutarkians who were unobtrusively, but alarmingly, filling their land. Mars was not unused to visitors and occasionally immigrants, but these Plutarkians…Xavier shook the thoughts out of his head, knowing that today was not the day to be thinking politics. Today was his wedding day.

Smiling, he stepped over to a small room that had created by hanging thick, ornate tapestries in a square shape.

"Zelena? Are you ready?" he called, his voice warming as he spoke.

"In a minute," a soft voice floated out. Zelena gazed at herself in a small mirror that had been set up, her eyes traveling critically over her white furred face. She hardly noticed her beauty in the ivory and gold dress. Her pink eyes were drawn instead to the sharp features of her face and the small, pointed ears, for Zelena was a rat, and that was something she rarely forgot. Why this handsome, successful mouse had chosen her, she didn't know…and after today, it wouldn't matter. She touched the lining of her dress, making sure the money was still sewn inside along with a small, disk shaped device.

"Zelena?"

"Coming!"

Quickly, before she stepped out to meet her fiancée, she adjusted the gun strapped to her thigh and took a deep breath.

Vinnie shifted his weight, forcing himself to stay quiet and still. Despite the serenity of the place, the thick silence perfumed with the heavy sent of flowers, he couldn't stand still for long. Rayna was captivated by the flowers that had twined around a nearby tree, and trying not to be captivated by Graven who stood patiently nearby. Zebbie was quietly playing a counting game with Mackie, trying to keep him busy, and Thrash was staring into space, his song composing expression on his face. Renee, having never seen this place, was looking around curiously, so Vinnie couldn't even make a face at her.

Just when he thought he couldn't stand it much longer, a short mouse adorned with long robes shuffled out to the platform.

"Peace on Mars!" he intoned, holding his hand up over the crowd.

"Peace on Mars," the mice responded in unison, their low voices breaking the silence.

"We are gathered here in this Sacred Place to witness the marriage of our newcomer, Zelena, to Xavier Starvosen. Please welcome them."

Together Xavier, resplendent in a blue military uniform, and Zelena, a visibly tense look on her face, stepped out onto the platform. There was a startled pause when everyone realized that Zelena was a rat.

"We welcome you," the crowd rushed to say. Vinnie looked over at Thrash and raised his eyebrows in surprise, and Thrash shrugged. Rats tended to have a bad reputation on Mars, but a marriage between a rat and a mouse, though rare, was not unheard of.

The proceeding went on, with the officiate calling out traditional statements, and the crowd reacting in kind. Vinnie, looking around, suddenly stopped when he saw Graven. Graven was studying the couple, his brow furrowed and a suspicious expression in his blue eyes. Vinnie, puzzled, returned his attention to the proceeding.

"Here in this Sacred Place, this beloved grove that has served as a sanctuary for generations, we join two lives. Xavier," the officiate turned toward the young, beaming mouse, "do you take Zelena to be your wife for as long as you shall live?"

"I do," Xavier responded instantly, holding his hand out to the young rat.

"Do you, Zelena, take Xavier to be your husband for as long as you shall live?" Zelena, to everyone's notice and surprise, hesitated. Then, she slowly lifted her hand and placed it in his.

"I…"

A loud explosion ripped through the air, drowning her words. Vinnie yelled in surprise and stumbled back, the sound filling his ears. Screams suddenly erupted among those in the front section of the crowd. The choking smell of smoke blotted out the perfume of the flowers, and heat fanned out against his face. Another blast rocketed nearby and Vinnie was slammed back against a tree. He was aware of Rayna, shrieking and clinging to his arm, and then, smoke obscured his vision and his mind.

* * *

Charley nearly jumped out of her skin as Vinnie suddenly gave a yell. She had been sitting with him, clutching a blaster as protection, lost in thought over how the guys were going to take care of Limburger, and worriedly contemplating what would happen if they were unsuccessful. Now she was quite alert, her face strained with worry over her friend.

"Vinnie? Can you hear me? What's wrong?" Charley asked urgently, bending over him. Vinnie's face twisted in pain and fear, and he yelled once more before becoming quiet. Charley looked at his face, the bravado and confidence gone and replaced by a tense and nervous expression.

"Don't worry, Vin, your bros will get you back to normal," Charley whispered, bending over him and touching his face. She took a deep breath and hoped that her whispered words would not be a lie.


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N. I might rate this section a little higher...a T perhaps? Really, there is nothing explicit, but I suppose it could be disturbing to some. **

* * *

_Eight years ago_

Vinnie opened his eyes, coughing as smoke filled his lungs. Blinking, he looked around, trying to register all that he was seeing.

The air was full of the almost continuous sounds of explosions, not only in front of him, but beside him and behind him. Screams and wailing filled the air, broken only by yet another blast of sound. Through the smoke, he could see mice running in all directions, trying to escape the explosions that were erupting beneath their feet.

What nightmare had he entered?

"Vinnie! _Vinnie_!" Vinnie looked around to see Rayna, knelt beside him, tugging at his arm and screaming his name.

"What…what's happening?" he cried, trying to regain his bearings.

"I don't know, but we have to get out of here!" she cried, shielding her face as a nearby blast sent dirt and pieces of tree bark through the air.

"Where are my parents? Where's…"

"I don't know Vinnie, but we have to get out _now_!" Rayna yelled, trying to pull him to his feet. She shrieked as an eruption rocked both of their bodies, causing her to stumble and nearly fall over him. That finally brought Vinnie to his senses. He leapt to his feet, ignoring the dull pain that thudded in the back of his head, and grabbed Rayna's arm.

"Let's go," he shouted, and together they entered the chaos.

* * *

Several feet away, Xavier, who had been knocked from his feet, arose shakily. Horror struck, he gazed around at the bodies that littered the ground, and the living mice that were struggling to leave the forest. Another bomb exploded, sending bodies flying.

"By Mars," he murmured painfully. Suddenly fearful, he looked around hastily to locate his new wife.

"Zelena?" he called, and was thankful to see that she was stooping a few feet before him. Slowly, she straightened, hardly seeming to notice the destruction around her.

"Zelena, we need to go!" Xavier yelled, holding out his hands. He took a few steps toward her, but stopped short when she stretched out her arm, pointing a gun at his chest.

"What…"

"I'm sorry," she said flatly. "They needed the land. There was no other way to get it."

"What are you…?"

"They promised a new Mars. A place in which we rats would never have to suffer the pain and cruelty we've suffered before. Do you know what I've suffered, Xavier? All my life I've heard the insults, I've felt the pain of being ignored, brushed aside, just because of how I look. They promised me that that would never happen again. They promised me that I would usher in a new era for all rats."

"Zelena, who are 'they'?" Xavier said, finally able to break into her monotone explanation. Zelena cocked her gun.

"The Plutarkians."

* * *

Vinnie pushed through the crowd, trying to find a way out of the thick forest. Apparently, the entrance had been reduced to a deep ditch, so the only hope was to push through the thick, previously undisturbed land laced with intertwining trees and vines. He tried not to think about his fear as the thunderous bombs nearly struck him deaf, as the ground rumbled below him, and as mice pushed against him.

Suddenly someone flung their arms around Vinnie's waist. He stumbled, looking down in surprise at the unfamiliar martian who clung to his waist. The martian, a young man, gazed up in terror.

"Shield me! Protect me!" he screamed wildly, grabbing at Vinnie's clothes. Vinnie tried to shove him away.

"I need to go, let me go!" he cried, trying in vain to move and frightened that the man would hold him there until they all died. Rayna sobbed openly, trying to free Vinnie from the stranger's hands.

Suddenly, a tall mouse stepped in, clutched the stranger by the shirt, and wrenched him away from Vinnie's waist. Graven flung the stranger away and immediately grasped hold of both Rayna and Vinnie by the arm, propelling them deeper into the forest. Vinnie could hardly gasp his thanks, but his relief was profound.

"Zebbie and Mackie are up ahead," Graven barked above the noise. "We need to keep moving."

* * *

"The Plutarkians? Xavier gasped, astonished. "They're responsible for this? They _hired_ you?"

"You're their strongest and most powerful opponent, and they need for you to be eliminated. And, of course, they need the land. Doing this would attain both goals. Xavier," for the first time, Zelena began to waver. "you don't know…you don't know what it is to be hated." Xavier, despite his anger, softened, his eyes filling with tears.

"Zelena. I would have loved you. I would have protected you. I would have done my best to make up for all of those years of pain."

"It's too late. It was too late before you even met me," Zelena said. Xavier took a step toward her, and she closed her eyes and fired the gun. The plasma wrenched through him, and the young mouse, the one that would have fought so hard for Mars and all he loved, sank to his knees and fell forward.

"No!" bellowed a voice. Modo, with difficulty, had reached the platform just in time to see the rat fire her blaster. Zelena hardly noticed him. Wide-eyed, she stared down at the mouse crumpled at her feet, and at the blaster in her hand. He had loved her. He was a mouse, and he had loved her.

Zelena had a cache of gold coins sewn in her dress, along with a transporter that would send her into the security of a land far from the hell she had helped to create. Still, she stood, watching as Modo hunkered down beside his cousin and turned him over on his back. Xavier's startled, vacant face gazed at her. The gun slipped from her fingers, and she took several dizzy steps back, tears clouding the image of his face.

"Xavier…I do. I _do_!" she said brokenly, and turned abruptly. Before Modo could move, she hurled herself from the platform into the face of another explosion, almost embracing the flames and smoke that consumed her.

* * *

Graven hurtled through the thick brush and vines of the forest, pulling Vinnie behind. Vinnie clutched Rayna's hand tightly, so as not to lose her. Gasping for breath, they leapt over logs and vines, letting the branches slap against their faces. Bombs were going off all around them even still, seeming to fan out until all of the forest would surely be destroyed.

Graven slowed, catching his breath, when he saw Zebbie pressed up against a tree, hugging a howling Mackie tightly. Zebbie's face was stricken and smudged with dirt and ash.

"Here," Graven said shortly, picking up Mackie and shoving him in Vinnie's arms. "You have to carry him, there's no way he'll keep up. Same goes for you, Zeb," Graven said, scooping Zebbie up in his arms. He immediately broke into a run, motioning for the others to follow.

Vinnie wrapped an arm and his tail around Mackie, who was clinging to Vinnie with a vice like grip. He caught Rayna by the hand and together they continued the agonizing race against time, their hearts jumping at each blast.

Suddenly, Rayna's hand was ripped from Vinnie's. He skidded to a stop and looked behind him.

"Vinnie, help! I'm…I'm stuck," Rayna cried, pulling at her dress. They had just pushed through a thick, thorny bush about the height of their waists, and Rayna's filmy dressed had gotten entangled. Vinnie looked at Graven, who was getting farther and farther ahead, down at Mackie, who was crying loudly, and then back at his friend.

"Graven!" he hollered, turning to catch up. "Graven, stop!"

Graven slowed, glancing behind him.

"What's wrong?" he called back. Vinnie hurried to his side.

"Here, take Mackie, I need to help Rayna! She's caught," Vinnie said, pressing Mackie against Graven.

"Vinnie, I can't…we're almost at the edge of the forest, we'll go back," Graven said, trying to speak over the din. Vinnie regarded Graven with surprise, and then shook his head resolutely.

"Go ahead, you have to get Zebbie and Mackie out," Vinnie said with understanding. "I'll catch up." With that he turned and fled.

Zebbie had slipped out of Graven's arms and was standing close by, grasping Graven's shirt sleeve. Graven stood, knowing he was wasting precious time. He wanted to go and help his friends, and for a second he almost took off after Vinnie, but Zebbie was pressed against him, his blue eyes wide with terror, and Mackie was nearly choking with sobs.

"I'm sorry. I'll come back," he murmured, setting his mouth in a grim line. He scooped up Mackie and grasped Zebbie's hand. With a deep breath, he pressed on toward the edge of the forest, praying that his friends would survive.

Vinnie raced toward Rayna, plunging into the sharp, thorny bush. Rayna had been trying to rip the thorns away and gasped with relief when Vinnie came into view. Together, their fingers scrambled shakily to untangle the material from the thorns. Vinnie's heart pounded in his throat, and at one point an explosion went off so close that he could feel the heat and had to shield himself from the ash and soil.

"Just rip it," he hollered, and they wrenched at the material, not caring how much dress was left behind. Vinnie plunged his hands into the thorny tangle of branches and tried to break them off, wincing as the thorns sunk deep into his palms.

"We're almost there," Rayna said shakily. Suddenly, she gasped as the ground rumbled beneath them. "Vinnie!" she shrieked.

It was the last voice Vinnie heard. A deafening blast sounded so close behind them that Vinnie's ears rang with pain. Vinnie lurched forward, managing to throw his arms around Rayna protectively as the ground beneath them literally flew through the air, sending them with it. Feeling a sense of unreality, Vinnie hurtled through the air, and when he landed hard on the ground, the sounds of explosions, the deep groans of falling trees, and the sobbing screams of mice all around him finally fell silent and sweet unconsciousness settled on his brain.

* * *

Charley held her breath, clutching a wet washcloth without noticing the water that dribbled down her wrists and into her sleeves. Vinnie had been having a hard time of it. The past ten minutes had felt like ten years as he yelled, gasped, and threw his arms out feverishly as if to shield himself. He tossed and turned, apparently in the throes of a nightmare. Charley had soothed him, trying to hold his hands, talking softly, dabbing his sweaty face with a washcloth.

Finally, he seemed to be calming down. He still breathed hard through gritted teeth, but his hands were still and he was quiet. Charley let out her breath and let her head drop so that it was resting on his chest. She listened to the rapid heart beat and, at last, let herself cry out her sorrow, fear, and exhaustion.

"Vinnie," she said harshly, gulping back tears. "Don't you leave me. Don't you _dare_ leave me."

Across town, in his high tower, Limburger smiled as the monitor showed the two mice drawing close. He sniggered deep within his throat and pressed an intercom.

"Oh Karbunkle," he said calmly, "Please inform the men that I chose that it is time for them to leave. Make sure that they are not seen by our furry friends. They have a hidden camera on them, is that correct?"

"Yes, your Ripe Cheesiness," the doctor wheezed. "Everything is ready."

"Good," Limburger almost cooed. "Then let us prepare to welcome our guests. I'm sure they'll just adore the show that we're preparing for them." He switched off the intercom and began to laugh as he regarded the two muscle bound heroes, enormously pleased that they had made the fatal mistake of coming together.


	7. Chapter 7

_Eight years ago_

Vinnie was first aware of a sharp pain that pounded in his head.

"Oh, man, what kind of truck hit me," Vinnie mumbled, shifting his body. He gasped as a knife of pain shot through his arm.

"What on Mars…" he trailed off as he slowly became aware of his surroundings, and as the memory of what had happened seeped into his brain. Feeling his stomach knot with dread, he tried to rise to his knees only to ram his back into something hard. Puzzled, he craned around and saw the trunk of a tree suspended over him, inches away from crushing him. He realized he had been saved only by the fact that the trunk rested on another tree that had fallen alongside him.

Grunting with effort, he dragged himself out from under the trunk and rose shakily to his feet. His eyes widened with horror as he regarded the scene that spread out before him.

The sun was beginning to set, casting an eerie red glow over the land. In place of the beautiful, rich, vibrant sanctuary of a forest that had been there for generations was a ravaged wasteland. The ground was split apart and deep gashes yawned open in many places. The carpets of moss and flowers and plants were shredded, leaving behind only remnants of charred petals. The great trees had fallen, some of them having split in half, and the trees that remained were pathetic and charred, standing starkly upright in the flattened land.

But worst of all were the bodies that were scattered, some mangled so badly that Vinnie suddenly felt his stomach lurch. Gagging, he stumbled a few steps and retched into the burned grass. He hugged himself, trying to control his shaking. What had happened here? Where were his parents? Where was…?

"Rayna!" Vinnie suddenly gasped, remembering his friend. He fell to his knees and looked beneath the sheltering trunk. Rayna lay sprawled out, still unconscious. He reached out to her, but the pain in his arm caused him to cry out. He glanced over his arm, which was bent in an entirely unnatural way, and pressed it against his chest. Reaching out with one hand, he managed to grasp her wrist and pull her out into the open.

"Oh…" he breathed, shocked motionless by her appearance. Her hair, which had been so carefully pinned back, was now hanging in a tangled mess. Her face and arms were streaked with red mud and ash, and her dress was in dirty tatters. Her legs were covered with long, thin lacerations that must have been caused by the force of the blast shoving them through the thorn bush. He reached down and touched her hair, and pulled back startled. His fingers were red with her blood.

"Rayna?" he whispered urgently, shaking her arm carefully. "Rayna?" She made no movement or sound, and if it weren't for the gentle rise and fall of her chest, Vinnie would have feared the worst. Vinnie stood again, swaying dizzily. Where was everyone? The sun had been climbing toward noontime when they had entered the forest, and now it was setting. How much time had passed? Had everyone given them up for dead? _Was_ everyone…dead? Vinnie shuddered and stumbled forward, pushing the thought from his mind.

"Hey! Is anyone here? Help! _Help_!" he bellowed, his voice strangely loud in the silence. He waited straining to hear a yell in return, but the only sounds were the call of birds and the wind whistling over the wasteland. Drawing a deep breath, he called again and again until his head spun. Choking back tears of frustration, he dropped to his knees, cradling his arm.

"Rayna," he murmured fiercely, reaching out to grasp her hand. "I wish you would wake up." Vinnie's head dropped to his knees and he held it still, trying to stop the feeling that the world was swirling beneath his feet. What would he do if no one came? What would happen when it got dark? Should he try to carry Rayna? Did he have the strength? What on Mars had _happened_?

Vinnie closed his eyes, feeling an overwhelming sense of weakness flood him. He was dropping off to sleep when he heard an echo of a familiar voice. Vinnie's head snapped up and he jumped to his feet.

"Ohh," he moaned, dropping back down to his knees. He was just about to make the effort to rise again when the sound of footsteps neared him. He looked up and was filled with relief when he saw Thrash peer over the tree trunk.

"I found him!" Thrash bellowed, leaping over the trunk and falling in front of his best friend.

"Man, am I glad to see you," Vinnie said shakily, but his eyes widened when he saw the large gash that ran across Thrash's forehead and the blood that stained his face. "Are you…?"

"I'll be fine," Thrash interrupted, his hands on Vinnie's shoulders. Tears gathered in his wide brown eyes and he tried to smile as he spoke. "Everyone thought you were dead, man. No one could find you. I didn't want to give up…I…" Thrash trailed off, swallowing hard. His eyes landed on Rayna's still form.

"Rayna…is she…"

"She's still alive," Vinnie hastened to say. Thrash sighed with relief, and reached over to touch her arm.

"We have to get out of here," he said firmly. He turned and raised his voice. "Hey! We need help over here!"

To Vinnie's relief, some more footsteps sounded close by, and soon he was staring in surprise as Throttle's face appeared over the trunk.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Vinnie said, raising his eyebrows. Throttle took one look at him and stooped next to him, pushing him back gently on the ground.

"Just lie down, bro," Throttle said soothingly. "Help is on the way." Throttle glanced at Thrash and shook his head.

"Heard you ran away from the paramedics," Throttle addressed him softly. "They've been looking everywhere for you."

"Good," Thrash said stubbornly. "I heard that they thought that everyone else was dead, that there were no survivors, and I knew that that wasn't true. I had to search for myself, Throttle, I just…"

"I know, kid. Just lie back, there are stretchers coming. You're a good friend to my lil' bro here," Throttle said with a smile. Thrash chuckled weakly.

"Who're you calling lil'?" Vinnie demanded from his position. Thrash laughed then winced in pain and fell silent. After a moment, he spoke.

"Throttle…we were attacked. You know that?"

"Yeah, kid, I know. I know."

* * *

Bright lights. Bright lights, whispering voices, and the rapid sound of padded feet. Vinnie struggled to open his eyes, but they felt leaden. He lay there, letting awareness seep into him. Last he had remembered, he was lying in the dirt alongside Rayna, listening to Thrash and Throttle talk. Surely that had been a dream…no, a vicious nightmare, the result of cramming his face with junk food and falling asleep over his video games.

"Is he awake?"

"I think so. Hey, Vinnie? Wake up."

Vinnie reluctantly opened his eyes and stared blankly at the faces—Throttle and Shandria—bent over him. Throttle's face relaxed into a smile as he straightened, but Shandria remained hovering over him, a wobbly smile on her tired face. Vinnie glanced around him, taking in the surroundings of a pristine hospital.

"Hey, sweetheart," Shandria said, trying to keep her voice steady. "How are you feeling?

"I have a killer headache, but I'm feeling alright," Vinnie said thickly, attempting to sit up. Throttle reached over to adjust his pillows to help him sit upright. Vinnie was about to reach over to adjust the sheets when he noticed that his arm was immovable.

"Hey, what's this?" he cried, staring at the cast that encased his arm. Shandria sat on the edge of his bed and smoothed back his fur.

"It's a cast," she replied, stating the obvious. "You broke your arm in…in the…"

"Explosion?" Vinnie supplied. She nodded mutely and he gazed down at his arm. "So it really did happen." He paused as the horrifying images seeped into his brain, then blinked abruptly, forcing himself back into the present. As he did so, a startling thought occurred to him. Looking around the small room, he saw that Throttle was leaning against the wall, arms crossed and eyes tired. Shandria was next to him, looking exhausted and bruised, but present nonetheless. They were the only two in the room. He adored Throttle and all, but…where was his father?

"Where's Dad?" Vinnie demanded. Shandria looked away, a tremor passing over her face. When she returned her gaze to him, she seemed to have mastered her emotions.

"He's in another room, but he should be alright," she said briskly, rising and smoothing his bedcovers. "As for you, my dear, you need to rid your mind of everything but consuming the lovely plate of food that the hospital is about to send up. Doctor's orders."

"Aw, I don't wanna eat," Vinnie complained, making a move to leave. "I want to go see Dad and…hey, what about Rayna? And Thrash? Did Graven and Zebbie make it out okay? Where did Renee go? What…" Vinnie's rapid fire questions were promptly cut off when Shandria shoved a forkful of food in his mouth. Throttle, Shandria, and the nurse who had just delivered the food, couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face.

"Mmpphf," Vinnie mumbled. With a grimace, he swallowed and managed to wait until the nurse had left to exclaim his disgust over the taste.

"Oh man, what did they put in this?" Vinnie complained, wrinkling his nose.

"Plenty of nutrients," Shandria answered wryly.

"Well, I'm not eating it," Vinnie declared stubbornly. "I'll grab something on my way home."

"Eat your food and you can go visit your friends."

"Oh." Vinnie paused, and began shoveling the food into his mouth so quickly that Throttle burst out laughing and Shandria held her hand out.

"What…hang on, relax, it's not going anywhere. Vinnie…Vincent, I command you to breathe!"

"There!" Vinnie cried, throwing down the plastic fork and letting out a belch. "I'm done!"

"Oh man, bro, I would say you just broke every record that I've ever set," chuckled Throttle. Vinnie grinned and shrugged, then look expectantly at his mother.

"So?"

"Well," Shandria sighed. "The doctor said you should try and walk around a bit to get your bearings. Why don't you go visit Thrash? He's right down the hall. Graven, Zebbie, Mackie and…who's that new girl…oh, yeah, Renee weren't hurt badly enough to get themselves a room. They just got checked over. There aren't that many rooms to go around," Shandria finished abruptly. Silence fell briefly, and then she tried to speak cheerfully. "Thrash is in room 105. Get your white furry hind out of here."

"Finally," Vinnie huffed, sliding out of bed. He stood, swayed, and had to clutch the wall to stay upright. Shandria reached out to steady him.

"I'm…I'm okay, just a little dizzy," Vinnie said slowly, trying to make the room stand still.

"I'll walk him over to Tharsh's room," Throttle volunteered in his quiet way. "I'm on my way to visit Modo."

"He's hurt too?" Vinnie said, picturing the big gray mouse.

"Yeah…it's more than physical though." Throttle hesitated, as if unsure of what to share. "Xavier was Modo's cousin, you know, and he was found dead." The impact of the words hung thick in the air. Vinnie stared at Throttle, thoughts racing through his aching head. He was dim on the full impact that this could potentially have, but not unconscious to the sorrow of the event, or the irony of this happening on the young mouse's wedding day.

"Well, what are you standing around here for? You bug me to go visit Thrash and then you hang around here! Get going," Shandria said, waving the two of them out of the room.

"Sheesh, gettin' rid of me," Vinnie mumbled half jokingly. He shuffled out of the bare, small room with Throttle close behind. As soon as the door closed, Shandria's smile dropped from her face and she sank down on the bed, lowering her head into her hands.

"Yo, Vin," Throttle said suddenly, breaking the silence that they had been walking in. Vinnie looked up, and seeing that Throttle had stopped, slowed his steps and turned. Throttle, at age 16, was taller than Vinnie, and beginning to gain some muscle. He was steady and calm, and though fond of joking and laughing along with the best of them, his face looked sober and his ruby eyes downcast.

"Yeah, Throttle?"

"I need to tell you the truth," Throttle said, almost in a rush. "Your mom didn't want to upset you, but you're gonna find out anyway. Thrash and your friends are alright, but your dad and Rayna…they aren't doing so well. Both of them are unconscious, in intensive care. Rayna is actually worse off than your dad but…well, I thought you should know."

"Thanks, Throttle," Vinnie said vaguely, a knot forming in his stomach. It didn't seem right, that just this morning he had been joking around with his family, blissfully taking their presence and health for granted, and now…suddenly, a rush of unexpected and unwanted tears rushed to Vinnie's eyes. He brushed his hand quickly over his face and turned away.

"I'll visit them after Thrash," he said, trying to keep his voice light. "I'll be quick, so Mom won't notice." Throttle was pretty sure she would notice, but kept that to himself. The two walked in silence until they reached Thrash's room.

"Alright, kid, I'll leave you here. Take care, and if you don't feel right, don't go and do something stupid and end up back in that hospital bed. You hear?"

"I hear ya," Vinnie said rolling his eyes. He watched Throttle amble away, and remembered the relief he felt when Throttle's face appeared over that tree trunk. _Bro,_ he thought, recalling the name Throttle had called him. _I kind of like that._

"Yo, Vin, that you?" a familiar voice called. Vinnie shook himself out of his musings and slid in the partially open doorway of the hospital room. He smiled as he saw that, as he should have expected, the room was full of people. Thrash sat propped up in the hospital bed, a thick bandage over his his forehead. On his lap was Theresa, busily chewing through, and slobbering all over, a roll of ace bandage. Zebbie, looking dirty and sleepy, was perched next to him on a chair, trying to distract a weepy Mackie with yoyo tricks. Of all of them, Theresa looked the healthiest for, thankfully, she had caught a cold several days before and had been at home with her mother. What she was doing in a hospital now was something Vinnie didn't bother to question.

"What's up everyone? Is this a cool new hangout or what?" Vinnie quipped, gesturing with his good arm to indicate the bare room. He expected a few chuckles to result from the lame joke, but to his puzzlement everyone stared at him. Zebbie's mouth actually dropped open, Theresa halted in her destruction of the ace bandage, and Thrash looked stricken. Finally, Mackie craned his little head around, caught sight of Vinnie, and screamed aloud, burying his face in Zebbie's lap.

"Wha…" Vinnie stammered, eyes wide. Thrash was first to find his voice.

"Vinnie…your face…did you take a look at yourself?" Thrash said with difficulty. Vinnie darted around, found a mirror in a cabinet and gazed at himself in horror. Both of his eyes had been blackened and were starting to swell. The rest of his face, mainly the right side where he had fallen, was a mixture of blue, black, and red.

"Argh!" Vinnie yelled, placing his good hand over his face. "Look at me, ugh, I look like a meat axe!"

"It's kind of cool," Thrash said comfortingly. "Like you got into a big fight or something."

"I doubt the other guy looks worse," Vinnie retorted sarcastically. Thrash shrugged and smiled.

"Well, hey, it'll go away. At least you don't look like me. Without this bandage, the stitches make me look like Frankenstein's monster."

"Who's that?" Vinnie asked, still studying his face.

"Oh that's right; you were asleep during that particular Human Lit class."

Vinnie sighed gustily, taking the other chair next to Thrash's bed. Zebbie shot him a sympathetic look and patted Mackie's back, trying to get him to calm down. Vinnie glanced at Mackie, feeling a quick pang of shame and embarrassment that the child was actually scared of him. Zebbie read the expression and smiled.

"Oh, don't worry about Mackie, Vin. He's just really on edge. See, Theresa doesn't mind." Vinnie switched his gaze to Theresa who was still staring at him. Suddenly, she burst out laughing, pointing and throwing the ace bandage with glee. The laughter broke the tension and everyone joined, even Vinnie after a few moments of pouting.

"I guess causing laughter is better than the other," Vinnie said, trying to salvage his dignity. Thrash, after a chuckle more, sensitively changed the subject and the small group talked as casually as they possibly could…talked about how Dianthia and Cannon had come through relatively well, how Dianthia and Thrash's mother, Sappira, were at the waiting room filling out paperwork so that they could go, and about how they were going to hide the fact that Theresa had just destroyed an entire roll of ace bandage…anything to avoid talking about the horror that had descended upon Mars only hours before.

And then time…time passed, _time floated by so that_

_suddenly Vinnie knew what he was going to see...as if in fast forward, figures came in an out of the room; a nurse, Sappira, and Dianthia. Everyone picked up their belongings and, in fast forward, left and Vinnie found himself alone. Walking down the corridor, up the stairs, into an area full of running and the frantic barking of orders and then…then…as memories resurfaced, he knew what he was about to see through his own, young eyes, and he wished desperately that he could do something to escape._

Vinnie stood outside a door that opened up into a long, narrow room. The room was full of temporary partitions that had been set up to create rooms for the many patients that overflowed from the intensive care unit. Soon, rooms would be opened for them, but now it was just as good to have them all in one place.

Slowly, with dread filling his stomach, he placed one foot in front of the other, forcing himself to check each partition in search of Rayna and his father. He stopped short beside one partition, seeing with surprise a familiar figure sitting next to the narrow bed.

"Graven," he said softly, taking a step forward. Graven, who had been sitting next to the bed with his head in his hands, looked up with a start. His face looked older than his years, his blue eyes were bleary, and his clothes still torn and dirty from the ordeal. Vinnie let his eyes shift from Graven to the person in the bed and felt his heart skip a beat. It was Rayna.

For a moment, he forgot Graven as he gazed at her, taking in the thick bandage wrapped around her head, and the tubes that traveled from her arms to a machine that hummed nearby. Covering half her face was an oxygen mask, and her closed eyes were almost as bruised as Vinnie's.

He would have gone on staring if Graven hadn't interrupted by standing and stepping over to Vinnie.

"Vinnie," he said hoarsely, placing his hands on Vinnie's shoulders. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I should've gone back for you. I should've just stopped where I was and gotten both of you out of there. Now, Rayna is…and I thought you were…"

"Graven, it's alright," Vinnie said a little nervously, disturbed to see Graven in that condition. "There wasn't anything you could do. You had to get Zebbie and Mackie out. If you had gone back, they probably would have been killed." At Vinnie's words, Graven's face relaxed and his eyes closed briefly.

"Thanks, kid," Graven said quietly, surprising him by wrapping his strong arms around Vinnie in a brief but gentle hug. "I'm glad you're okay. Thrash, man, he went crazy when he thought they were going to stop looking for you. Jumped right out of the ambulance and went running." Graven paused and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Man, I need some sleep."

"Go get it," Vinnie said, waving him off. "I'm probably going to go back soon too. Hey, uh, you know where my Dad is?" Graven regarded Vinnie with sympathy and nodded.

"Yeah, he's down a few rooms. You want me to stay with you?"

"Nah, I'm fine. Go get some rest," Vinnie said with a confident wave. Graven nodded, touched Rayna's cheek, patted Vinnie's shoulder and shuffled away, intending to let Shandria know where her son was before he left.

Left alone, Vinnie gazed down at Rayna, his eyes burning. He remembered throwing his arms around her to shield her from the blast, and he supposed his arm absorbed some of the damage, but what if his weight had driven her harder into the ground? Swallowing hard, he took her hand.

"Rayna, please, don't go. If you live I promise, I _promise_ I will protect you. I'll do anything, just please…" Vinnie trailed off and squeezed her hand, noting that it seemed so small and limp in his own. She drew in breath, but it was shallow, and her face above the oxygen mask looked pained.

Vinnie leaned over her face and unexpectedly dropped a kiss on her cheek. With his hand on her hair, he rested his cheek against hers for a moment.

"I'll be back, Ray. I'll be back and then you'll get better and we'll hike up to that peak you liked, you know, the one that had the snow on it. We'll have snowball fights and build forts and do whatever you want to do. We can read comic books for the rest of the day, and I'll _give_ you all of my comics for as long as you want them. Okay? But you have to wake up. So I'll be back…and then you have to wake up." He waited a moment more, but the only answer was the click of the machine. He sighed, stroked her hair back, and stood.

"I'll come back," he whispered around the lump in his throat, and stepped out of the partition.

Vinnie was tired, dizzy, and in pain, but he walked resolutely over to where his father was supposed to lie. He hoped against hope that his father would be awake to greet him, but when he stepped in, the older mouse remained still.

Expecting the worst, Vinnie was surprised and pleased to see that his father looked relatively well. Though on oxygen, he only had one other tube coming from his arm, and his breathing was deeper. Still, he lay motionless on the bed, and as Vinnie noted with a sudden burst of horror, his right side had been badly burned and was partially bandaged.

He tried to speak words to his father, tried to give the reassurances that he had spoke to Rayna, but he just couldn't muster up the strength. He wanted the reassurance this time, he wanted his father to place a strong hand on his head and tell him with that cool confidence that he sported that it would be alright.

When Shandria found him moments later, Vinnie was asleep on the chair with his head on the bed and his still unconscious father's arm draped over his shoulders. She leaned in close to hear what Vinnie was whispering in his sleep, and tears jumped to her eyes at the words.

"I love you. Come back, please come back. I _love_ you…"


	8. Chapter 8

"Alright Modo, you know the plan, right?" Throttle called as Limburger's Tower loomed before them.

"Yeah, I got it. I go find the Big Cheese and hold him there…"

"And I'll find Karbunkle and drag his skinny hind to Limburger's smelly office," Throttle finished, making a fist.

"Man, I can't wait to force feed them my fist!" Modo growled with gritted teeth. He didn't know very much about Vinnie's personal past, but he remembered when Vinnie first joined the Freedom Fighters, overconfident and wild, but clearly hiding pain and uncertainty. The two had also shared that terrible experience in the Sacred Forest, and if Vinnie had been forced to relive that…Modo's hands tightened on his handlebars, unaware that his eye was glowing red.

"Take it easy, bro," Throttle said soothingly. "I want to rip through there and beat him senseless too, but we have to go in quickly and quietly. We get them alone, corner them, and pump them until we walk away with a way to bring Vinnie back."

"I hear you, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to give them a token of my appreciation after they hand over the formula," Modo replied with a grin, holding up his gun arm. Throttle chuckled, but grew grim as they approached the tower.

"Careful," he whispered, activating the sensors Charley had built into their helmets. "The Big Boss himself is sure to be waiting for us. No doubt his original plan was to put us all out of commission."

"Got ya, bro," Modo agreed, activating his sensor and keeping his good eye open. The two mice approached the tower with their blasters out and their senses alert. They had fully expected a barrage of blasters to meet them when they arrived, but the place was strangely quiet. They switched their motorcycles into high gear and zoomed ahead and up the side of the tower. As windows flew by, Throttle gave a quick wave, blasted his way through a window that was near the top, and disappeared inside. Modo hunched over the handlebars and continued a few floors higher until he came to a large picture window.

Glass flew in all directions as the big mouse barreled inside, squealed to a halt, and opened his gun arm.

"Alright, Cheeseface, give it up…huh?" Modo paused and straightened. The resistance he had expected had not come. The room was quiet and seemed to be empty until the office chair swiveled around.

"Ah, so you've finally arrived. What kept you, dear boy?" Limburger purred, reclining on the big office chair. Modo trained his gun arm on the corpulent crook.

"One move and you'll be fried flounder," Modo snarled, still keeping an eye out for any traps. Limburger sighed and shrugged.

"Ah, well, when you've won, you've won. I'll come quietly…or would you like me to remain where I am?"

"You just stay comfortable, you rancid mound of cheese."

"As you wish."

Throttle careened through the labyrinth of hallways that led to the doctor's laboratory. He was tense all the way, waiting for someone to jump around the corner and nail him with the dangerous chemical that had downed Vinnie. Strangely, the hallways were silent.

"What has the Big Cheese cooked up now?" murmured Throttle, feeling uncomfortable with the apparent emptiness. He slowed his bike as he came upon the tall sliding doors of the lab. He pressed a button on his bike and blasted his way into the room.

"Knock, knock, Doctor," he called, shooting into the lab and whipping out his blaster. The only answer was the hum of machines. Looking around, he spotted Karbunkle in the corner, slowly pouring fluid into a test tube.

Normally when they barged into the doctor's lab, the skinny, shrieking mad scientist was the first to panic, running around, setting off alarms, and reappearing with an army of henchman. This time, he seemed nonplussed.

"Freeze, Doc," Throttle ordered. Karbunkle looked up, seeming far from panicked. He only sighed, as if slightly annoyed.

"Oh, it's you, is it? What can I do for you?"

"It seems that you've put my bro out of commission for awhile. Stole his mind, so to speak. I'm here to escort you to your boss so we can work on reversing your sick little experiment."

"Must I really…"

"Oh, and by the way, you have no choice," Throttle said flatly, gesturing with his blaster. Karbunkle sighed and stepped forward.

"Well, it seems that you have me…ahhh!" His voice suddenly rose into a shriek as Throttle wrapped his tail around Karbunkle and accelerated. Karbunkle's feet flew out from under him as he flew through the air after the mouse.

Throttle ignored his shrieks as they raced up the stairs toward Limburger's office. What was going on? _Something isn't right here. I don't know what Limburger and this creep are up to, but it ain't gonna be pretty._

* * *

_Eight years ago_

The days, though agonizingly slow, were a blur in Vinnie's mind even while he lived them. Schools across the region had been cancelled for several days, and when they finally reopened, the place held a pall of subdued sorrow and fear. Empty seats and substitute teachers cried out a bitter reminder of the loss of life, and teachers who remained were uncertain as to whether or not they should forge on ahead or just let everyone stare blankly and whisper about that nightmarish day.

For, of course, the tragedy was something that was on everyone's mind, within the district and all over Mars. Adults talked about it in hushed tones, newscasters soberly discussed the loss of life and land, and the headlines of the newspapers blared rumors and accusations. All eyes were on the Plutarkians, who, when questioned severely by the Government, swore that they thought they had rightfully purchased the land. The landmines, so said the spokesperson—spokesfish?—for the strange creatures, were meant to level what they thought was worthless land. After several days, the official report stated that there was a simple misunderstanding as to the location of their purchased land. The Plutarkians paid the Government an exorbitant amount of gold gills, and promptly offered to clear the now destroyed land free of charge. The residents watched, horrified but helpless, as strange machines moved into their sacred land to transport the ancient, fallen trees and rich soil, presumably to Plutark.

"You think it's true?" Vinnie had asked his mother one day after listening to the news. "You think the Plutarkians really got the location confused?"

"Hmph. No," his mother had answered shortly.

"Man, that's…that's not right," Vinnie had said doubtfully, a distrust of those in charge creeping into his mind for the first time. "Hey, you know they say that Xavier was murdered."

"So I've heard."

"Throttle says that Modo swears that the rat, you know, his wife, shot him. Do you think _that's_ true?"

"Mm, I don't know. I heard she was caught in the explosion."

"But Modo _says_ he saw her shoot him."

"Vinnie, I don't know. Why don't you go finish your homework?" That had ended the conversation.

Vinnie had spent his days healing from his wounds, visiting Rayna and his father, and running around outside with Thrash, both of whom defied the doctors and roughed around as much as always. Both of them were alternately trying to forget the terrible event and mulling over the day and its implications. Graven had grown quieter and replaced his music with newscasts. Vinnie, after watching the news for a few days, decided to forget about it and concentrate on getting through each day.

As for Xavier, his passing was mourned, and he was replaced with an elderly politician who was rumored to have a failing memory and was known for his propensity to agree with the majority.

* * *

"Vinnie?"

"In here!" Vinnie called from the kitchen. It was a weekend and a beautiful, sunny day, so when Thrash hadn't seen Vinnie outside, he had been puzzled. When he entered the kitchen and saw Vinnie laboriously tucking a flower in a vase already full of assorted blossoms, he stopped, gaped at his friend, and burst out laughing.

"Whoa, Vinnie, when did you decide to be a florist?"

"Say one word about this to anyone and I'll shove the whole thing in your ears," Vinnie growled, shooting him an evil look. Thrash laughed and plucked at one of the flowers.

"What, and ruin your creation? You wouldn't dare!" Thrash chuckled.

"I? Vinnie? _I _wouldn't dare?" Vinnie asked, raising his eyebrows. Thrash held up his hands in defeat.

"Yeah, that's true," he conceded, plopping down in a chair. "So, really, have you flipped your lid or what? What's with the flowers?"

"Aw, I just got them for Rayna," Vinnie said, his cheeks flushing a bit. "These are her favorites, and I thought, well, maybe the scent would wake her up."

Under normal circumstances, Thrash would have promptly launched into teasing Vinnie about his red cheeks and uncharacteristic sweetness, but Thrash was sensitive enough to realize that this was not the time. Instead, he spoke gently.

"How is she?" he asked with concern. "She was still the same the last time I visited, but I haven't gone in awhile." Thrash watched as the smile faded from Vinnie's face.

"She's not doing so well," Vinnie admitted quietly. "She's still pretty much the same." Thrash nodded in response and they sat in uncomfortable silence for some moments, until a growling sound broke the tension.

"Hey!" Thrash exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "I'm starved, and I haven't eaten anything today. How about you? Hungry?"

"Oh, you bet," Vinnie said, rubbing his stomach. "Mom has been at the hospital visiting Dad for most of the day, so I haven't eaten anything."

"Ha, your Dad was right, you wouldn't survive a week on your own," Thrash teased, opening the refrigerator.

"Right and you would do better?" Vinnie jabbed in return.

"You bet I would! Who do you think takes care of Theresa when Mom is out working?"

"Graven? Dianthia? Cannon?"

"No, genius, me. I can make a killer Cheese Melt," Thrash said grandly, reaching into the refrigerator and whipping out a block of cheese.

"Sounds good to me," Vinnie replied. "Go for it." As Thrash began to clatter around the kitchen gathering food and cooking utensils, Vinnie poked a few more flowers into the bunch and squinted at it. He was certainly no designer, and a dim judge of aesthetics, but the flowers were colorful and they would brighten the small, blank room to which Rayna had been moved.

Thrash cut slices of cheese and dropped them into the butter that was sizzling on the special pan.

"So I heard your Dad was doing well," Thrash said over the noise. Vinnie grinned and leaned back precariously in his chair, completely disregarding his broken arm.

"Yeah! He woke up!" Vinnie said excitedly. "I was just there yesterday and we even talked a bit. I think he's going to be okay."

"Awesome."

"Yeah."

Vinnie sighed as he thought of the relief he felt when his father struggled to open his eyes and look around. Tread had recognized both Shandria and his son, and though he couldn't talk long, he managed to speak a few words to each of them.

"You doing okay, kid?" he had said softly to his son.

"Yeah, I'm great," Vinnie had replied.

"Good, good. I'm so glad. Hey, you…you know where my plans are, right? For my new bike?"

"Yeah, they're right where you left them," Vinnie had answered, a little puzzled.

"Good. You…you hang on to 'em for me, okay?"

"Sure, I will, I'll keep them until you come back. Hey…the motocross was cancelled, but I'll bet we can get tickets to next year, right? You and me?"

"Yeah, kid…you and me."

Vinnie closed his eyes and let himself imagine his father awake and alert, even walking around. Tread was a fighter, and Vinnie knew that he would soon be defying his own doctors and doing what he pleased. As for the motocross, well, there was always next year. The two of them had been waiting for years to go, so one more year wouldn't matter.

Vinnie's daydreams were broken by the sharp ringing of the phone. Thrash looked around then returned his attention to his cooking as Vinnie slammed the legs of his chair down and jumped up to answer.

"Hello?"

"…Vinnie?" Vinnie paused for a moment at the voice. It sounded faraway and odd, but familiar nonetheless.

"Wait…Mom? Is that you?" he asked, drawing his brows together.

"Yes, yes, it's me," Shandria answered in that strange voice.

"What's wrong? You sound upset."

Thrash turned away from the stove.

"Vinnie…I…I'm sorry…I didn't want to tell you this over the phone…"

Vinnie's stomach started to turn and his palms started to sweat. The smell of cheese was thick and pungent, and it made him queasy.

"Mom, what's going on?" he demanded. _Man, why am I so shaky?_

"Vinnie….sweetheart. The doctors…they were wrong…there were internal injuries…I'm…" her voice broke off into a sob.

"It's Rayna, isn't it. Rayna…is she…" Vinnie suddenly found that he couldn't speak. Thrash took a few steps toward him, his dark eyes fixed on Vinnie's face. Vinnie gripped the phone. _Oh please, please let Rayna be alive…please_.

"No…not Rayna. She's fine." Vinnie let out a breath of relief.

"Phew."

"It's your father. He's…he…an hour ago…he…"

"What, Mom, for crying out loud!" Vinnie hollered.

"He died."

The world spun.

Vinnie stared at the stove, stared at the cheese that was now threatening to bubble over the edges of the pan, stared even as Thrash touched his shoulder and Shandria called his name. He heard snatches of his mother's voice… "Internal injuries…can't leave…so sorry…Dianthia is coming to get you…" before he let his arm slowly drop to his side. The phone slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

"Vinnie? What happened?" asked Thrash urgently, shaking Vinnie's shoulder.

The rich smell of cheese overwhelmed Vinnie's senses. In his mind, like the pulsing of a drum beat, his voice repeated over and over,_ no, no, no_…until he was screaming it, sinking down to the floor and pounding his fist and yelling until his throat was rough and in pain. He inadvertently banged into the table and vase tipped over and fell to the ground, shattering and flinging water and flowers across the floor. Vinnie slammed his fist on the floor, crunching the glass beneath his fist.

Thrash drew in his breath as droplets of blood fell from Vinnie's hand. He immediately dropped to his knees and caught hold of Vinnie, trying to keep him away from the glass.

"Vinnie…Vin, it's okay…it's okay," Thrash said repeatedly, hugging his friend tightly. Vinnie, barely aware of Thrash's presence, clung to him and raged with a mixture of sobs and yells. He was aware of little else than the intense pain that seared his soul.

The acrid smell of burning cheese hung in the air.


	9. Chapter 9

Charley awoke with a start and looked around her. She sighed with relief and chided herself for falling asleep when she should be alert and keeping guard. She remembered resting her head on Vinnie's chest, and the steady beat of his heart must have lulled her to sleep. She rubbed her eyes and rose to her feet, stretching her cramped limbs.

"Can't rest yet, Charley-girl," she mumbled to herself. Suppressing a yawn and realizing she needed more help than her own motivation, she headed into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee.

Then it happened.

A shout of pain and despair ripped through the air so suddenly that the coffee mug slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor. Charley gasped and whipped out her blaster, her eyes searching for enemies. When she realized that the room was empty save for Vinnie, she lowered the gun and gazed at him, stricken.

He had risen into sitting position and was yelling out garbled words of grief mixed with anger. He waved his arms around, as if warding off some terrible evil, and then gritted his teeth and slammed his fists down on the couch.

Charley stared at him in shock, her hand over her mouth, and then snapped into action. She sidestepped broken fragments of her mug and darted over to the couch.

"Vinnie," she cried, dropping to her knees and trying to grab his hands. Vinnie flailed, slamming his fists into the cushions. Charley ducked his fists and began to grow angry. Curse that flabby fish and his freakish scientist!

"Now, Vinnie, you listen to _me,_" she commanded, wedging herself next to him and grabbing his wrists. "You have to snap yourself out of this. Just come back. You're Vinnie, the self-proclaimed baddest mammajamma around! Stop letting Karbunkle's sick mind games get the best of you! You hear me? Come back!" Charley shook him a little to emphasize her words and stared intently at his face.

He had stopped raging and now sat limply, his head drooping forward slightly. Slowly, as the silence hung in the air, he lifted his head. Charley held her breath, hoping to see his open eyes gazing into hers, but his eyes remained closed. Vinnie's face held such a lost, pitiful look that Charley's heart was wrung with sympathy.

"It's so hard," he said in a whisper. Charley leaned in to hear; was this Vinnie talking or his younger version? "I can't believe it. How could my dad be gone? I-I…" Vinnie trailed off and his head drooped forward again. Charley blinked away tears and wiped her cheeks with her arm. She had been scolding him, when she should have been comforting him.

"Vin," she said softly, placing her hands on his shoulders. "It's okay. I'm with you. I'll always be with you. Just relax. Listen to my voice and let go of what's hurting you. Let go." She paused to swallow tears and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Let go."

* * *

_Vinnie looked around, suddenly conscious of himself once again. His self-awareness was fleeting and weak, but it was there. As he watched the days unfold, those dark and empty days in which his mother wept and his father lay motionless in his coffin, days in which he stood with neighbors and friends as his father, his beloved hero, was lowered into his dark resting place, days in which he sat next to Rayna's still form, willing her to awaken. Oddly enough, though those memories were the most painful, he now watched them dispassionately, as if he was observing images of another person's life. For they were indeed images, and they floated by in steady succession, broken only by snatches of deeper memory and conversation._

_ "It's okay if you want to cry, Vin."_

_ "Why should I, Zebbie? What will that do?"_

_ "Nothing." A pause. "All of Mars has reason to cry now."_

_ "Because of my father?"_

_ "No, because of Mars."_

_ "You're a strange kid, Zebbie. Go away."_

_ And again he was lifted and the dark days floated by, urged on by a soft voice that was not from his past._

* * *

Charley's voice waned, tired from the unbroken murmurings that were meant to comfort and console. She placed her hands on Vinnie's shoulders and eased him back onto the cushions. His face was peaceful now, and his breathing was rhythmic. She squeezed his hand and rested her head in her other hand.

"Ugh, where are you guys?" she muttered, her mind on Throttle and Modo. Surely they would be back soon. She was emotionally spent.

So tired was she, and so intent on watching her friend that she didn't notice the small gang of men, led by a certain oily buffoon, creep closer and closer to her door.

* * *

Vinnie stared at the ceiling in his semi-dark room, allowing his eyes to trace over the intersecting cracks and crevices until the strain forced him to rapidly blink his dry eyes. The house was almost silent, except for the hum of the refrigerator downstairs and the occasional creaks that houses tended to make in the dead of night.

Except for the muffled weeping of his mother from downstairs.

The sound was becoming familiar to Vinnie, for she had been stealing downstairs late at night for the past week. Vinnie would wake up and listen hard, and sure enough choked sobs would rise up to meet his ears, and the insomnia would start once again.

Vinnie didn't know why he didn't cry. He didn't know why he stared blankly at his father's casket during the funeral or how he was able to stolidly cling to his mother's elbow when she swayed. Thrash, who had hovered close to his friend, ready to help him should he need it, did not see the tears that he might have expected. Zebbie, who with all his sweetness and youth had told Vinnie that crying was perfectly acceptable, did not get the expected reaction. Vinnie had not shed a tear since the day he had collapsed to the floor, raging and sobbing while Thrash clung to him.

But the pain, that throbbing, burning pain in the pit of his stomach and at the base of his throat was always present.

Abruptly, Vinnie sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed. He set his feet against the cold floor and stood, stretching his stiff limbs. He extending his healing arm carefully, glad that the cast had been removed. Restless, he wandered around his room, pausing at the window to look out at the dark night.

Rayna's room was still empty.

Vinnie turned swiftly away and faced the door. Hours spent at Rayna's bedside had not convinced her to wake up. _Maybe tomorrow_, Vinnie thought dully, but suddenly grew angry. Would it always be "tomorrow"? Did a "tomorrow" exist?

Trying to control his anger and hardly able to stand the knot in his stomach, he tried to distract himself. Vinnie brushed his fingers randomly over his collection of magazines and comic books, and jumped when a loose magazine fell to the floor, its pages flapping. He bent down to pick it up, and then stopped short.

The magazine was devoted to motorcycles, and it happened to be the first motorcycle magazine subscription his father had bought for him.

_"Hey, you…you know where my plans are, right? For my new bike?"_

_ "Yeah, they're right where you left them,"_

_ "Good. You…you hang on to 'em for me, okay?"_

_ "Sure, I will..."_

He hadn't set foot in the garage, his father's workspace, since the day his hero had died.

Vinnie sucked in his breath, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. Slowly, forcing himself to pick up his feet and move, he walked over to the door and pushed it open. Dim light met his eyes as Vinnie continued down the hallway and tiptoed down the stairs.

His mother never noticed him, and he didn't stop long enough to regard her. Quietly, almost holding his breath, he made his way across the kitchen, and then slipped through the door that led to the garage.

The smell of oil rose to greet him as he stepped into the large, chilly room, shivering as he set his bare feet against the cold concrete. The smell brought back a sudden flood of memories. The expectation that his father would be there, bent over his machines, was so real that he almost broke down for the first time.

But, curiously, he didn't.

Instead, Vinnie felt around for the small, battery powered lantern that his Dad often kept handy. His fingers bumped against it and he flicked it on, blinking at the dim light that illuminated the garage.

Everything was how his father had left it. The low work table was littered with tools and manuals. Partly finished engines and stacks of tires littered the floor, looking disorganized but Vinnie knew that they had placed there with purpose. Tread's bike, which had been his prized possession, stood polished to perfection and waiting for its rider. Vinnie touched the handlebars gently and swallowed hard. He knew that he had to get what he was looking for before he lost his courage, so he turned swiftly toward the work table.

On the surface of the table was a small metal box, locked with a combination lock. Vinnie smiled slightly, remembering how proud he felt when his father taught him the combination and told him to commit it to memory. Slowly, he rolled the small dial and lined up the correct numbers, satisfied to hear the small click that signaled a correct password.

Carefully, he lifted the lid of the box, curiosity overtaking his sadness and pain. Though he knew his father had a new bike in the works, he had only looked over the plans once or twice and casually at that. Now he pulled each document out and flattened it gently against the surface of the table, bringing the lantern closer so he could see clearly.

The first few documents puzzled Vinnie greatly. The pages were covered with numbers and fragmented sentences jotted down in Tread's untidy handwriting. Vinnie squinted at the writing and realized that it was something about artificial intelligence and motorcycles. Vinnie placed those papers aside, deciding to figure out that problem later.

The rest of the pages were much easier to understand, as they were devoted to the plans for Tread's new motorcycle. The plans were more complete than Vinnie had originally thought. Sketches and careful calculations and scales covered the pages. One page was devoted to the sketches and scrawled information about the engine that his father had intended, and another was devoted entirely to the wheels. Finally, Vinnie reached a page that captivated him. His father had carefully sketched what he intended to be the body of the motorcycle and, as Vinnie saw, it was truly a beauty. Instead of being short with high handlebars, it was long and streamlined, which Vinnie knew allowed for maximum speed. Though the low handlebars would force the rider to stretch out and bend over the bike, the body of the bike and the positioning of the rider would make for the perfect racer.

Vinnie's eyes lingered over the sketches, each drawn from different angles. He turned over the page, not expecting anything to be on the back, and then paused, his eyes growing wide.

Tread had drawn a complete model of the bike, with everything from the detailing of the tires to possible designs for the sides. The only thing that was missing was color, and Vinnie could see that he had inked in several different colors on the bottom, as if trying to figure out what he liked best. But most astonishing of all was the figure that was perched on the bike, bent low over the handle bars and grinning with glee.

It was Vinnie.

That's when the tears came.

Much later, Vinnie raked his arm roughly over his eyes and set his mouth in a firm line. He methodically folded the documents and stacked them inside the little metal box. He held the finished sketch and gazed at it for several seconds before placing it in along with the rest.

"I'm going to do it," he vowed, his voice sounding strange in the utter silence of the garage. Yes, that would be his goal. He would learn everything he could about motorcycles, and then he would build that bike in exactly the way his father had planned…but perhaps with a bit of his own style thrown in as well. It would be a melding of father and son in a way that Vinnie could just about grasp but could never put into words. As for the color…Vinnie closed his eyes and pictured the dark dashes of color his father had inked out on the bottom of the page. One color stood out in particular.

"Red. Bright red." Red for passion, red for love, red for precious blood that had been spilled…the same blood that ran through Vinnie's veins. "Red."

Vinnie hugged the box close to him as he darted quietly out of the garage, past his sleeping mother, and upstairs into his own room. Sliding the box under his bed, he huddled under the covers and, for the first time in awhile, fell into a deep sleep.

The burning pain, finally, was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

**A.N. Thanks for the reviews so far! I'm glad people are enjoying this. We are winding down the story now. In the previous chapters I wrote an italicized "eight years ago" to differentiate between past and present, since some of the past sections were divided by the line and I wanted to eliminate confusion. In this chapter, the narrative cuts so quickly between past and present that I decided not to include the "eight years ago" as it would interrupt the flow. In this chapter, the lines signify a switch from past to present, etc. Also, this is a tad graphic I suppose so maybe T? Thanks and enjoy!**

* * *

In the center of Chicago, high in the tower that shadowed the city, Modo cocked an ear and smiled as the sound of a motorcycle grew louder.

"Looks like we're about to have a guest," Modo drawled to Limburger, who was still seated at his desk. "Guess this is when the real fun begins."

"Yes, quite," Limburger murmured, smiling faintly. As if to punctuate his words, the door flew open and Throttle flew through, screeching to a halt. Limburger eyed the destroyed door and ruined carpets and grimaced.

"One mad scientist, delivered as planned," Throttle said throwing Karbunkle, who was slightly green, to the floor. Karbunkle rose and staggered a few steps, and then toppled over again right beside Limburger's feet.

"Alright you two," Throttle growled, facing them angrily, "maybe you can get your heads together and figure out a way to bring our bro back."

"Yeah, Feta Face, we know you shot him with something to knock him out," Modo accused.

"And guess what? Every chemical has an antidote. Now cough it up," Throttle finished, pointing his blaster menacingly. Limburger sighed and glanced over at Karbunkle, who was still reeling from his ride.

"Yes, well, it appears you have figured out our plan quite well, but you are mistaken about one thing."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Karbunkle, do tell," Limburger said lazily, gesturing to the doctor. Karbunkle rose to his feet and tried to speak, but only groaned pathetically and sank to the ground. Limburger clucked with his tongue and shook his head.

"You really shouldn't have taken him on such a rough ride, you know," he chided. "Ah, well, I shall explain. Apparently, to our knowledge, there is no antidote. Why would I have the dear doctor create one? You see, as you may have guessed, all three of you were supposed to be have been placed into a coma that should span the next twenty odd years. Why would I want to have anything to reverse that?"

"Well, you'd better start thinking one up, you bucket of slime," Modo growled, rising to his feet and placing both palms on the desk. Limburger smiled and spread his hands.

"Why should I?"

Throttle couldn't help but chuckle at the pomposity. He shook his head and mimicked Limburger's gesture of spreading his hands.

"Um, let me clue you in here, Gorgonzola Gut. We have all the cards here. You and your lackey are unarmed and, as far as I see, alone. So, I suggest you two get down to your creepy lab and start working your wizardry. Would you like a ride again?"

"Ahh, now," Limburger purred, holding up his hands. "You are entirely too hasty. You see, as usual, I have another card up my sleeve." Limburger finally rose to his feet, and Throttle and Modo exchanged glances. They watched warily as Limburger, enjoying every moment of his impending success, sauntered over to a previously unnoticed television screen. It was large and flat, and when Limburger clicked it on, the image filled the screen.

Throttle and Modo both gave a start of surprise when they saw the familiar image of the interior of the Last Chance. The image shook as if whoever held the camera was running. Throttle squinted, trying to follow the movements, and jumped with horror when he saw Charley, who had been sitting next to Vinnie, jump to her feet.

"No!" Modo boomed. Both watched, frozen, as Charley struggled with the thugs, trying to grab her blaster. A tall, thickly muscled man came up behind her suddenly and grabbed her, and another grabbed her blaster and flung it outside. Charley cried out as her arms were twisted behind her, and that cry jolted the mice into action.

"You'll get yours, Limburger," Throttle growled, grabbing his bike and wheeling it around, preparing to bust out of there. Modo was close behind, angry about Limburger but desperately wanting to make it to the Last Chance before…before it was too late.

"Stop!" Throttle and Modo skidded to a halt, the urgency of Limburger's voice startling them. Throttle, with a sense of foreboding gripping his stomach, turned in his bike and looked first at Limburger, and then at the screen.

Charley was held nearly immobile by a thug, and Greasepit, dripping more oil than ever, held the still unconscious Vinnie by his bandana.

"Duh, I got 'im Boss. Now, what're my orders?" Limburger smiled coldly at Throttle and Modo.

"Hit him. Hard." Greasepit, in response to his master's command, shrugged and pulled his fist back.

"Stop!" Throttle gasped.

"No!" Modo cried, reaching out his hand helplessly.

"Wait," Limburger commanded sharply, and Greasepit paused, his fist hovering over Vinnie's face. Limburger smiled, his eyes traveling casually over Throttle and Modo's powerless faces. When he spoke, it was with a note of triumph.

"Now we bargain."

* * *

Thrash leaned back against a craggy red boulder that jutted out from the ground in just the perfect spot. Making himself comfortable, he held up his stopwatch and clicked it.

"Go!" he called out, his voice echoing against the canyon walls.

"Aaaahoooww!" sounded a replying whoop. Thrash chuckled and shook his head, watching as a white furred figure raced along the gorge. He smiled as he watched him, and then leaned his head back against the boulder.

The sun was setting, casting golden rays of light over the peaks of the rocky hills that rose and fell before him. It was an unusually warm evening, the still air broken only by an occasional gentle breeze. On evenings like this, it was easy—and tempting—to forget about the mess that their world was slowly becoming. Though the tragedy had happened nearly a month ago, the repercussions still rippled throughout the land.

Thrash frowned when he thought about his own family. His mother was tense and worried, and his sister, thankfully, was oblivious. As for his own emotions, well, he couldn't help but feel angry whenever he saw a somber, thoughtful look on Zebbie's face, and he couldn't help but feel afraid when he watched Graven listen grimly to the newscasts, a far off expression in his blue eyes.

"Hey there, handsome." Thrash blinked and looked up to see Renee standing over him, hands on her hips. Thrash broke into a warm smile and held up his hand.

"Hey yourself, beautiful," he said lightly, taking her hand and shifting to the side so that she could have room to lean against the boulder. Renee stretched out and pushed her red curls out of her eyes. She squinted and shook her head when she saw Vinnie, whooping and ripping around on his motorcycle.

"That Vinnie," she muttered, shaking her head. "How can he be so…so lighthearted like that? I mean, he just lost his father and he's racing around like he doesn't have a care in the world."

"Don't say that."

Renee looked in surprise at the hard tone in Thrash's voice. Thrash glanced over to her, his usually gentle brown eyes harsh and a little angry.

"What…"

"You don't know what Vinnie is going through," Thrash said, watching his friend. "You weren't there when…when everything happened. Vinnie is dealing with it in the way that's best for him. He's _surviving_."

"I just…"

"So if he's a little crazier than he used to be, fine. If he's a little louder and more boastful than he used to be, fine. And if he's not mourning and wandering around all gloomy and silent like everyone thinks he should be, then that's fine too. He's my friend and I'm sticking by him."

"Thrash," Renee managed to say, resting her hand on his. Thrash glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Thrash, I'm sorry. You're right, I shouldn't have passed judgment on him when I don't even know what's going on in his head. I just say stupid things like that sometimes, without thinking. I'm sorry."

Thrash sighed and gently reached out to brush aside her curls. Their eyes met and Renee knew that she was forgiven.

"It's alright, Renee. I just feel like I need to look out for him. To protect him, or something. I dunno."

* * *

"So what's your price, Cheeseball," Throttle asked between gritted teeth, glowering at his hated enemy.

"I should have known you would choose to protect one of your own," Limburger said smugly, a self satisfied grin stretching over his face. "That was why I knew that all wasn't lost when my idiot employees failed to take the two of you down as well."

"Still waiting, Limburger," Throttle snapped, his patience wearing thin.

"Well, my dear boy, the price doesn't involve much more than what you've already done. You have already turned your weapons over to me in deference to my superiority. All that I ask now is for you to surrender to all of Plutark."

"You're outta your mind!" Modo fumed, his fists clenched and his eye glowing.

"If you think we're just going to hand ourselves over to your stinkin' planet, you got something else coming for you," Throttle growled. Limburger raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?" he said innocently, then turned toward the monitor. "Greasepit! Do what you were instructed to do."

"Duhh…instructed? I ain't had no schoolin' in awhile."

"_Greasepit_!"

"Ohh I remember…" Greasepit said, his eyes lighting up. Then, to Throttle and Modo's horror, he turned and drove his fist into Vinnie's stomach. Though still unconscious, Vinnie gasped and doubled up in pain. Charley screamed, kicking at her captors. Greasepit pulled Vinnie back, his greasy hand gripping Vinnie's face cruelly, and raised his fist again, this time over the mouse's head.

"Alright, alright!" Throttle yelled, raising his hand.

"Restrain yourself for a moment, my pernicious punisher," Limburger said through the monitor, and Greasepit stopped after one of the thugs nudged him and whispered a translation of Limburger's command.

Throttle sighed and looked at Vinnie through the screen. If they left now to save him, who knew what Limburger would command Greasepit, or any of the thugs, to do. They could kill him in the time it took for Modo and Throttle to reach the Last Chance. Throttle regarded Vinnie, who sat with a pained expression, clutching his stomach. With a glance at Modo, who nodded, Throttle stepped forward.

"Alright, Limburger," Throttle said heavily. "You win. Do what you need to do." Limburger laughed in delight and summoned a waiting minion, who had apparently been just outside the room, to come and imprison the mice. Throttle and Modo glowered at the man as he bound their wrists with heavy rope, and then wound the rope around their torsos, pinning their arms to their sides. Modo watched the screen, feeling a pang in his heart over Charley's fear and Vinnie's limp form.

_Come on bro, what are you waiting for? We need you. Just wake up!_

* * *

Vinnie bent low over the handlebars of his biker and gritted his teeth, anticipating the jump that would lead him to his starting point at the top of the canyon. He revved the bike, trying to get as much power as he could, and gave a wild shout of excitement as he flew through the air, feeling almost weightless for the two or three feet that he was above the ground. He landed hard on the other side and managed not to topple over. With a shout of success, he pulled alongside Thrash and skidded to a halt.

"Time!" he gasped, pulling his helmet off. Thrash glanced up and clicked his stopwatch.

"Phew, not bad Vin, just under five minutes," Thrash reported. Vinnie grinned and dismounted from his bike. _When I build my real bike, I'm going to add rocket boosters_, Vinnie thought with a grin.

"How did you get your bike to go that fast? I thought you were only allowed a low powered motor for that thing," Renee said skeptically. Vinnie chuckled and shrugged.

"Well, I, uh…"

"Totally breaking the law, right?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Oh well," Renee said, raising her hands. "It's your neck."

"And it's so fun!" Vinnie cried, flopping down next to Thrash and letting his legs dangle over the side of the canyon.

"Looks like it," Thrash agreed with a laugh. "You're going to have to teach me some moves."

"Sure." The three lapsed into silence, gazing out over the ruddy expanse of the canyon. Vinnie breathed in the fresh air and exhaled slowly, feeling life in every particle of his being. Since the night he discovered his father's plans, he had tried to move ahead and forget the painful past. Many times it would creep up to him, catching him unaware and nearly knocking him flat with the grief that went with the knowledge that his father was no longer there. Sometimes images of the terrible days would flit before his eyes and Vinnie would nearly lose his breath.

Then, of course, was the daily reminder of their loss in the form of his mother. Shandria, his brave and vibrant mother, the one who loved to fling herself into the heart of a storm, was broken. She tried to put a brave face on everything, but her smiles were wobbly and unconvincing, and he knew she spent most of her nights curled up on the couch watching old home videos or gazing at photographs.

Not Vinnie. He loved his mother and tried to cheer her up, but he knew he would never allow himself to break like that. So he folded up his dark thoughts and pain and shoved it in the corner of his mind. It was the only way he could keep on living.

"Penny for your thoughts," Thrash said suddenly, nudging Vinnie's side with his shoe. Vinnie glanced up at him and saw that, though his tone was light, his face showed his concern. Vinnie smiled inwardly. Of all of his friends and acquaintances, Thrash was probably the only one who really knew and understood what Vinnie was hiding. Words weren't necessary.

"Ha, my thoughts are worth more than a penny!" Vinnie boasted.

"Is that what they call inflation?" Thrash jested.

"An inflated ego!" Renee said with a laugh. "Ohh, face!"

"Who just got told?" asked a new voice. The three turned to see that Graven had pulled up alongside them, but they were so wrapped up in their own jesting that they had never even heard them. Vinnie leapt to his feet.

"She's talking crazy, that's all. Oh man, Graven, guess how fast I…" Vinnie trailed off when he saw another figure perched on Graven's bike, holding onto his waist.

"Rayna!" Vinnie cried, holding out his hand. "What are you doing out here? I thought the doctor told you not to leave your house for a few more days."

"Yeah, we all know how well you listen to your doctor, mister," Rayna said, trying to hide the weak quaver in her voice. For Rayna, to Vinnie's ultimate joy and gratitude, had woken up a couple of weeks before. Vinnie had just about given up hope and was turning to leave one day when she had opened her eyes and breathed his name, resulting in the best feeling he had had in a very long time.

"You think that it's okay?" Vinnie asked, glancing at Graven.

"Oh, relax, I'll be careful," Rayna said before Graven could speak. "It's a beautiful night, and I'm tired of being cooped up inside." Vinnie shrugged, knowing that he wasn't one to argue, considering the fact that he had just been speeding through a canyon with a recently healed arm.

Graven turned and gently took Rayna's thin hands, helping her off his bike. With one hand protectively hovering behind her back, Graven handed her off to Vinnie, who half supported her and led her to the side of the canyon to sit. Graven watched them with a small smile, and then dismounted to join his friends.

Rayna leaned against Vinnie, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply.

"Wow, it's so nice to be outside again," she said. "I feel like I've been asleep for years or something."

"We're glad to have you back!" Thrash said, leaning over to squeeze her shoulder. "It's not the same without you."

"Yeah," Vinnie agreed, ruffling her hair. What he didn't tell her was how he felt like he was missing part of himself while she lay unconscious. He also kept secret his vow to protect her thinking, perhaps irrationally, that she would laugh at him. But it didn't matter, he would keep her safe all the same.

"What a sunset," Graven spoke up, gesturing to the blazing colors before them. They fell silent for a moment, letting the rays warm them and the breeze caress them, each drinking in the beauty of the twilight. "What a beautiful night."

* * *

"What a beautiful day!" Limburger exclaimed. "What a beautiful day for the triumph of Plutark!" He raised his arms and plunged his hands in a bowlful of wriggling worms. Throttle and Modo blanched when he shoved the mass into his mouth.

"Nice. So, now that you've won and all, let's say you get your thugs out of Charley's garage?" Throttle said, gesturing to the monitor with his head.

"Ahh, yes, of course. Our bargain," Limburger said casually, strolling over to the screen. He cleared his throat, tapped the microphone, and spoke into it.

"Ahem, Greasepit?"

"Duh, yeah boss?"

"You may go ahead and destroy the rodent now. I don't care how. You can beat him, shoot him, or blast him, whatever you like. My only request is that you do it nice and slowly…that maniacal mouse has been a major malfunction since I first met him."

"What?!" Throttle and Modo roared at the same time.

"You slimy, crooked fish flab, we made a bargain!" Throttle accused, shaking with rage.

"That's what I love about you righteous rodents. You think that because you're so good and honest, then everyone else will be. Consider your lovely choice of words: 'slimy' and 'crooked.' You said so yourself, and so I am. Now, relax, and enjoy the show."

Throttle and Modo struggled furiously with their bonds and stare in horror at the screen.

Charley screamed at the first punch and flung herself against the arms of her captor. The man stumbled but held tight.

"Just relax, sweetie, if you play it smart we'll leave you without a scratch on your pretty face," the man said in a sickening voice. Charley ignored him and continued to struggle, her heart jumping every time Vinnie was slugged, kicked, or pushed.

"Vinnie, wake up!" she screamed, hoping that her voice mingled with the physical trauma he was receiving would jolt him out of his coma. But Vinnie, cringing and groaning, remained limp and lolling. Charley gasped as blood streamed from his nose.

"What is _wrong_ with you people, can't you see that he's unconscious?" she yelled, more out of frustration than with any hope of convincing them. Sure enough, Greasepit lifted Vinnie by his bandana and tossed him to a nearby gangster.

"Hehe, hey, let's pass him around," he suggested with a sick chortle. Charley glowered at them, beginning to feel a real fear that Vinnie would literally be beaten to death. Carefully, she began to ease her way over toward her work bench, hoping that the man clinging to her arms would not notice. Luckily, he was laughing and enjoying the show.

"Hey, Marty, why doncha hold this lil' pretty here and let me get in on the action," the thug suddenly shouted.

"Sure, but only for a minute, this is fun!"

Charley held her breath as the other man joined her. As soon as she was passed along to the other man, but before he could get a good grip on her, she planted her foot on her workbench and shoved back with all of her might. As she hoped, the goon stumbled backwards and rammed hard into the wall. Charley broke free and slipped away from his grasp. Her former captor whirled around and tried to catch her, but she swung her leg and connected squarely with his stomach. Groaning, he sank to the ground, and Charley clubbed him once more in the back of his head with her clenched fists.

Charley leapt over him and grabbed a wrench from her workbench. Brandishing it, she hurled herself toward the goons, hoping that a few good hits would convince them to leave Vinnie and her alone.

_Throttle and Modo, I don't know where you are but you'd better get your tails here fast,_ she thought, and took a deep breath.

* * *

"Hey," Vinnie said, sitting up straight and peering behind him. "Is that Throttle and Modo?"

"Sounds like it…yeah," Thrash confirmed, craning his neck to see. The small group waved as the mice pulled up, and Vinnie rose to his feet.

"Ha! It's the Dangerous Duo!" Vinnie exclaimed, holding his hand out to be slapped. Throttle groaned and Modo shook his head.

"That was pretty lame, bro," Throttle teased. "Besides, there are three of us."

"Huh?"

"Hey!" Zebbie greeted cheerfully, peering out from behind Throttle. The group broke into laughter and greeted him.

"Sorry Zeb, I was going to wait for you but Mom said you were out for a bit," Graven said in apology for leaving him behind.

"That's okay. Yeah, I was just wandering around for awhile, and Mom told me where you all were. Hey, Graven, I brought you something…" Zebbie paused and turned toward Modo, who handed him a black case. Zebbie hoisted it up and held it out to Graven.

"It's your guitar. You…well, you haven't played it in awhile and I thought maybe you'd want it on such a nice night. It's a perfect night for some music," Zebbie said, trying not to sound too hopeful. Graven smiled and took his guitar, but put it aside wordlessly.

"So, what have you two been up to?" Vinnie asked to break the slight tension. He returned to his place next to Rayna and watched as Throttle and Modo leaned against their bikes.

"We were just visiting Stoker," Modo answered.

"Really?" Vinnie asked, perking his ears. "Did he say anything about…you know, those ideas my Dad had?" Modo looked at Throttle questioningly, and Throttle supplied the answer.

"Yeah, I took those to him a few days ago. He might be able to do something with your Dad's notes," Throttle said, happy to be able to be optimistic. Vinnie nodded, satisfied.

Vinnie had tried for a few days to discern the scribbling about artificial intelligence, and realized that he had no idea what the numbers and notes meant. He had mentioned it to Throttle one day, and Throttle was keenly interested.

"You know who might be able to figure that stuff out?" he had mentioned to Vinnie one day. When Vinnie was curious, Throttle continued, "There's this guy named Stoker. He's older than we are, and he's one of the mice who are starting up a resistance of sorts against the Plutarkian occupation. He's pretty smart and really good with bikes. He might be able to actually make the ideas into reality."

"That's cool," Vinnie had replied eagerly. "My Dad…he would get some credit, right?"

"Sure he would, but more importantly his dreams would become reality." Vinnie had agreed with the wisdom and, with a pang, had turned over the notes. Now, it looked like he had made the right decision.

"Yeah," Throttle continued. "He promised that if he actually was able to make it happen, we would be the first to test it out."

"Awesome!"

"Who's Stoker?" Renee asked, not hearing the name before.

"He's startin' up a resistance group a few towns away, where I was from," Modo filled in. "I guess he figured if Army was going to get in on it, then maybe he would do something too."

"Army hasn't been doing much," Graven said quietly, his eyes downcast. "A lot of people think it's a front to try and reassure everyone."

"All the better then that mice like Stoker are going to really do something about it," Throttle reasoned.

"Ha! I wish I were old enough to join that group!" Vinnie exclaimed, leaping to his feet and punching the air. "As soon as they let me in, I am so going to be there whipping some tail on those oversized fish!"

"It all seems so unreal," Rayna suddenly said, hugging her legs to her chest. "I mean, there could really be a war, you know? If Army is mobilizing and normal citizens are starting to join resistance groups. A real war, with death and destruction. What…what do you think is going to happen to us?" Vinnie looked down at her worried face, and was startled to see tears in her eyes when she raised her eyes to his face.

"Aw, it'll be okay, those fish won't last five months," Vinnie said, reassuringly, dropping down next to her and slipping his arm around her shoulder.

"I'll be old enough in a year or so," Graven said unexpectedly. "If they do stay here longer than five months then…well…who knows. We have to do what we can so that Mars survives. We just have to survive."

Thrash drew in his breath. Silently, he glanced around the group, taking in the expressions that ranged from grim and melancholy to puzzled to a little excited. His eyes stopped when they landed on Zebbie's face. Zebbie, so young, so full of life, was gazing at the ground in a dejected fashion, plucking at a tuft of dry grass.

"Survive?" Thrash suddenly exclaimed, leaping to his feet. He gave a shout of laughter, and then bent down and scooped up a very startled Zebbie. Whooping and slinging Zebbie over his shoulders so that the boy hung upside down, he gave a few spins on the balls of his feet then faced the group with a grin, delighting in Zebbie's muffled laughter. Vinnie blinked, startled. There was a light in Thrash's eyes, and a look of energy and hope on his face that was catching. His entire posture, tall and erect, was somehow victorious as he stood framed by the sunset.

"Survive?" he asked again. "Let's be real! We're going to do a heck of a lot more than that! We can't just survive! We have to live, really live with all of our hearts and strength. We have to give everyone a reason to fight, a reason to look forward to the good times again."

"That's saying it, kid!" Modo said enthusiastically, emitting one of his slow, warm laughs. Zebbie, still laughing, pushed his hair out of his upside down face and beamed infectiously.

"I'm dying to be alive!" he called. Thrash grinned in response and swung Zebbie around once more, and then, in his clear voice, began to sing.

_I'm dying to be alive!_

_Yeah, not trying to just survive_

_Let's not go through this life_

_Without just dying to be alive…_

* * *

Charley grunted as she avoided the arms of the thugs. She shoved several aside, using her wrench when necessary and keeping her eyes on Vinnie. They were crowded around him now, and Charly knew that if she didn't hurry, she would lose him. Her only glimpses of him showed a face that was more and more in pain.

_Hang on, Vinnie, _she thought desperately. _Just stay alive. Stay alive._

* * *

Vinnie leapt to his feet and, not caring how out of tune he sounded, joined Thrash in singing the chorus. They faced each other, grinning and almost shouting the words, their volume increasing as they progressed.

_I'm dying to be alive!_

_Yeah, not trying to just survive_

_Let's not go through this life_

_Without just trying to be alive,_

_YEAH!_

At the last shouted word, Thrash bent over and flipped Zebbie forward so that he tumbled into Vinnie.

"Oof," Zebbie giggled, glad that Vinnie caught him. He was half draped on Vinnie's arms and half on Thrash's arms, and the whole group broke into applause and laughter.

"Some acrobatics to accompany the song," Renee joked. "Nice ending."

"Tsh, it isn't over. Come on, everyone!" Thrash cajoled, gesturing with one arm for everyone to get to their feet. "Come on, we have to make them believe that we are going to _live_!" Shrugging and chuckling, everyone rose to their feet, and Vinnie reached out to help Rayna. Graven sighed, looked over to his guitar, and with a half smile pulled it out to play.

"Alright, ready? Pick up at the second verse, real loud now," Thrash prompted, overjoyed that Graven finally picked up his guitar. He deposited Zebbie on the ground in front of him and, with his hands on his younger cousin's shoulders, turned and faced the great expanse of the canyon.

_We're all on the ground just crying out_

_Somebody save me please_

_I won't sit around just thinking about_

_The trouble that tomorrow brings._

_I'm dying to be alive_

_Not trying to just survive_

_Let's not go through this life_

_Without just dying to be alive._

Their voices trailed off together, and they all listened, hearing their voices echo off the walls of the canyon.

"Let it be the echo of the ages," Graven said softly. "Let it echo through the years that we aren't just going to survive…we are going to live." Thrash glanced at him, and Graven placed a hand on his shoulder, nodding firmly. Thrash sighed, feeling a strange sense of relief, and ruffled Zebbie's hair.

"You know what?" Throttle said, crossing his arms. "We should make a pact. Whether we're going to actually fight or not, whether there's going to be a war or not, we should vow to fight in some way to keep Mars alive. To make it so that people can go into a forest to pray or hold a wedding without fear, a place where we can keep on living and…and riding free. Ride free…I like that."

"Yeah! Count me in!" Vinnie piped up excitedly.

"Sounds good to me!" Modo enthused, raising a fist.

They formed a circle and Throttle placed his hand in the center. Modo was next, and then Vinnie, and soon there was a jumble of hands in the center of their circle. Zebbie stood on his tiptoes and manage to place his small hand on top.

"Ready?" Throttle asked, looking around at the bright faces. "For Mars and freedom!"

"For Mars and freedom!" everyone shouted in response, and with triumphant cheers and whistles they flung their hands in the air and laughed. Rayna glanced up at Vinnie, her old smile on her face again, and Vinnie hugged her tightly…before letting out a little burp in her ear, for old time's sake. He was glad when she yelled and slugged him, glad because it meant she was recovering, becoming her old self again.

They all sat together, a circle of friends, and Vinnie began to believe that somehow everything would be okay.

* * *

Charley gasped as Vinnie was thrown up against the wall, and glared when she saw one of the nastier thugs twirl a club close to his face. He had just leaned back to gain momentum before bringing the club down when Charley squeezed through the circle of her enemies and shoved her way in front of her friend. She swung the wrench hard at the goon's exposed stomach, and was satisfied with he gasped and doubled over. She shoved him to the ground and stood in front of Vinnie.

"Alright, who's next?" she snarled, swinging her weapon.

"Ohh…" groaned Vinnie from behind her. She glanced over at him, her stomach tightening when she saw the bruised, bloody state he was in. Leaning against the wall, he began to slide to the floor and on impulse she reached out and tried to keep him on his feet.

It was a mistake.

The moment she took her attention away from the thugs, one of them clamped down on her wrist and twisted the wrench away. Charley pummeled him with her fists but he just laughed.

"No!" she cried, glancing back at Vinnie. Greasepit stepped forward.

"Alright, yous goons. We're endin' this now," he announced, lifting Vinnie by a limp arm. He dragged Vinnie over to the couch and shoved him down.

"Someone finish him, Mr. Limburger ain't gonna be happy if he wakes up," Greasepit said in a rare show of discernment. One of the thugs shrugged and pulled a blaster out.

"Argh," Charley growled, struggling with all her might. With a new surge of strength she wrenched free and threw herself over Vinnie just as the thug raised the blaster.

"No!" hollered Throttle.

"Charley!" roared Modo.

"Ahh, success!" crowed Limburger.


	11. Chapter 11

It was the strangest thing.

One minute, Vinnie wasn't…well, he wasn't anything really. He was a pair of eyes watching his own past, but watching and not judging. Not thinking, save for those few moments when his consciousness surfaced, prompted by a strange voice.

And now, here he was, standing on the red sands of a healthy Mars, alive and well in a place he hadn't been in years. Puzzled, he looked around him, breathed deeply of the clean air, and then jumped, startled.

Just a few feet away, seated in a circle with other mice was…himself. Vinnie saw himself. He marveled at the realization of what he had been watching all this time, and then suddenly looked down at his own hands. Yes, here he was, all twenty one years of him, as clear as could be. So…why could he suddenly see himself? Why didn't he stay invisible? And if he was no longer invisible, then why was he in the past?

_"Vinnie!"_ Vinnie jumped, searching the area around him frantically. The voice had echoed all around him, loud and clear, but there was no one except for his group of friends. He glanced over to see if they had noticed, but they appeared to be ignorant.

_"Vinnie! Wake up, please! Help!"_ Where was that voice coming from? It didn't seem to belong in this world, somehow. Vinnie blinked, rubbed his eyes, and decided to ignore it. He wanted to see himself…he wanted to watch himself with the people he had cared about for so long. He stepped closer, not wanting them to see him, for he didn't know what would happen if they did.

There they were, his friends. He hadn't seen their faces for years, well, except for Throttle and Modo. He watched silently as Graven strummed his guitar, as little Zebbie chattered and jumped around, apparently acting out a joke. Renee—ahh, that fiery redhead he loved to tease—leaned against Thrash, who was cracking up over Zebbie's antics. Vinnie shook his head and continued to let his eyes rove, until they landed on the girl sitting close to his younger self. Rayna.

Rayna.

A rolling guilt consumed him, hitting him so hard that it nearly took his breath away. Oh, Rayna. What had he done?

_"Vinnie, please, hurry. Help!" _That voice again, discordant. What was he supposed to do?

"Vinnie." Vinnie froze, not sure for a moment whether someone was addressing him or his younger version. Slowly, he turned and looked behind him, then gasped.

A figure stood before him, clad in white and bathed in a strange, ethereal glow. She looked otherworldly, but in a sense, quite familiar.

"Ray…Rayna? How…how are…"

"I'm not real, Vinnie." Rayna said calmly. "I'm just an image, projected by your own mind. You're struggling to come back to yourself, and I'm just here to help."

"What…what are you talking about? What do I have to do?"

"It's time to let go, Vinnie. You've had the power all along, and now you need to summon everything within you to break away from your past."

"My past…so I really am in my past?" Vinnie asked, turning to look at the group of friends.

"Well, in a sense. Really these are just images projected from your memory, very real and clear images. Those people over there can't see or hear you, or for awhile you were a nonentity. But now it's time to go home."

"But…" Vinnie took a deep breath. "I don't want to. I…I miss them so much. Especially…"

"Vinnie, you know it's not always going to be like this. Do you really want to stay here, to relive everything else? You remember…you know what is going to happen. You know their fate." Vinnie closed his eyes and turned back to the figure.

"Rayna, I'm…" he trailed off, struck dumb. Rayna slowly and smoothly began to change. Green eyes replaced brown, and shoulder length dark hair replaced golden. The ears and face transformed and became…

_Charley. He remembered._

_ "Vinnie! Vinnie! NO!"_

He sucked in his breath and clenched his fists, his mind suddenly clear. Effortlessly, Rayna became herself again, yet still bathed in that strange light.

"Are you ready now?"

"Yes. I'm ready. What do I have to do?" Rayna smiled in response and held out her hand. Vinnie reached out and placed his larger hand in hers and closed his eyes briefly, wishing that she was real.

"Just let go. Easy as that. Let go."

Slowly, the landscape began to fall away, starting with smells, then sounds, then the environment. The only thing left was his group of friends, still talking and laughing and singing as if nothing had changed. Vinnie felt a pang of sadness in his stomach as they slowly began to fade. Remaining only was Thrash, Rayna, and Vinnie himself. Thrash slung his arm playfully around Vinnie's shoulder and lightly punched his ribs, both of them in the throes of laughing at some joke. Slowly, he too vanished, and Vinnie wished him well.

As he traveled upwards, engulfed in the image's light, his eyes held the real Rayna's face, implanting the memory firmly into his mind until she too faded into nothing.

* * *

Charley screamed and buried her face into Vinnie's chest. She had tried to awaken him, had shouted his name until her voice was hoarse, but it would make no difference. The thug was sick of waiting for her to move, and Charley knew that they would die together. She clutched his bandoleers and held her breath as the blaster shrieked, and she waited for the plasma of the blaster to burn into her back.

Suddenly, she felt something quite different. Arms encircled her, and in one astonishing second, she was jerked to the side and jammed into the couch.

"Phew, now that's what I call a close one, sweetheart!"

That voice.

"Apparently they like their mice mashed and a little singed. Too bad for them that _I'm _not on the menu."

High pitched, confident, with a touch of braggadocio. It could be no other.

"Vinnie!" Charley exclaimed in breathless relief, finally daring to open her eyes. There he was, the big lug, bending over her and managing to smile despite his swollen cheek.

"Miss me, sweetheart?"

"Desperately, now if you don't mind…" Charley prompted, pointing over his shoulder at the confused gunman. Vinnie glanced behind him.

"Oh, right…" With that, he swung back and delivered a power house punch that sent the man literally off his feet. Vinnie immediately clutched his ribs with a pained grimace.

"Oof, they really messed with the merchandise, didn't they," he muttered.

"Broken or not, I'm so glad you're back!" Charley exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. Vinnie bit back a groan of pain over the pressure on his broken ribs, but ignored the ache and wrapped his arms around her in return.

"So, does that mean you'd buy me anyway?" he quipped eagerly. Charley just gave out a half sob, half laugh, hardly believing that he was actually alive and awake.

"I hate to break up your reunion but Mr. Limburger has ordered us to pulverize yah," Greasepit suddenly intoned. Vinnie broke away from Charley and glowered at him.

"Oh, is that so? Well…you know what they say, right?"

"Duh, what?"

"Buyer beware!" With that, Vinnie leapt to his feet and easily took out the two goons closest to him, slugging one with his fist and whipping the other to the floor with his tail. Grinning and slashing his tail, Vinnie stood in his fighter stance, ready to take them on. The thugs looked at each other, not knowing whether to back away or start attacking, and finally a couple of them ran forward.

"Yo, bike, a lil' help here!" Vinnie called to his mechanical companion. His bike, which had been powered down during the entirety of Vinnie's coma, revved into action and unfolded the weaponry. The thugs shouted and ran in all directions as the lasers flashed at their feet.

Vinnie chuckled and slid onto his bike as it rolled by, grimacing and stretching his sore legs.

"Hey, Charley girl, wanna go for a short spin with me?"

"With pleasure!" she replied with a snicker. Vinnie whipped out a blaster from one of the compartments on his bike and twirled it in his fingers.

"Showtime!"

Throttle and Modo looked at the screen as Vinnie whipped around on his bike, hollering his trademark shouts of triumph and sending the thugs, Greasepit including, scrambling to leave. The two mice grinned and regarded Limburger, who was slowly backing away.

"So, you were saying?"

"Ah, yes, well, perhaps we can, um, reconsider the terms of our agreement?" Limburger faltered.

"Ohh, we'll reconsider alright," Throttle said with an evil grin.

"More like we'll _break_ it!" Modo boomed, giving a sudden jerk of his arm. He had been trying to ease his gunarm out of the bindings slowly the entire time, not wanting to be noticed by Limburger. Now he jerked free and shot through his own ropes.

"Oh my," Limburger mumbled, slinking further away. Modo turned toward Throttle to release his friend when suddenly Throttle squinted over his shoulder, discerning a flash on the screen of his helment.

"Modo, incoming at 6:00!"

"6:00…"

"Behind you!"

Modo whipped around and dodged just as a needle hurtled through the air near him. Karkbunkle, clutching a long, thin gun, gave a shrieking gasp. Modo growled, shoved him aside and wrenched the gun away.

"Hmm…" he mused, looking at the gun and ripping Throttle's ropes away nonchalantly with one easy pull. "I'd say we might have some good use for this."

"Mm, yeah, I can of a few things I'd like to do," Throttle replied, rubbing his chaffed arms. Both mice began walking toward Limburger who was now cowering behind his desk.

"Care to do the honors, Throttle?" Modo offered.

"Why, I'd love to." Taking the gun from Modo, he twirled it, aimed, and fired.

"No!" Limburger howled as the needle embedded itself in his flesh. "No! I don't want to be an eggling again…I don't…I…" Slowly, with a yawn, Limburger swayed and toppled to the ground with a rumbling crash.

"Yiiii!" Karbunkle screamed, tearing out of the room and down the stairs.

"Should we chase him?" Throttle wondered glancing at Modo. They exchanged snickers and began to mount their bikes when Vinnie's voice crackled over the speakers.

"Yo, bros! Where've you been?" Vinnie asked, his face filling up the entire screen. Apparently, he had found the thug who was sporting the camera. Throttle rested his arms on his handlebars, glad to see his bro awake, if a little bruised and bloody.

"Oh, just hanging out with the neighborhood cheese whiz," Throttle replied casually.

"Yeah, we were workin' while you were takin' a nap," Modo joked. Vinnie chuckled.

"Well, naptime's over, and I just had a little playtime too…speaking of which, you might want to get out of that building soon. I sent Greasepit home crying with a little consolation 'present' if you know what I mean. He should be getting there anytime now."

Throttle and Modo pricked up their ears, hearing the bumbling sounds of Greasepit from the open window.

Greasepit rumbled into the building astride the usual gas guzzling tank he always drove. He sniffed and fiddled with his cap nervously, then jumped off of his bike and paced in a little circle.

"Ooh, da Boss ain't gonna be happy wit me," he moaned with a shake of his head. "I wonder if he'll cut my pay again." His thoughts, as they were, were interrupted by a sudden click that sounded from his bike. He tilted his head and peered down to see a few small objects lodged in the back of his bike.

"Hmm…those look like bombs." Pause. "Bombs!"

Throttle and Modo suddenly felt a rumbling beneath their feet, and both of them laughed when they realized what Vinnie had done.

"Well, I guess our playtime is over too! Let's say we split!" Throttle suggested, jumping on his bike.

"I'll second that!" Modo agreed. The two of them revved their bikes and zoomed out through the window, just as the Tower began its usual descent into rubble. They arched through the air and landed expertly, gunning their engines and racing toward home, happily anticipating seeing their boisterous brother awake and alert.

"Ha, Modo, I never thought I'd say this, but I wouldn't even mind hearing for the tenth time about how Vinnie won the Motocross!" Throttle called to his friend.

"I hear ya, bro. I hear ya."

"Ouch!"

A couple hours later and they weren't hearing much from Vinnie except groans, moans, and exclamations of pain. Charley made a face at him and tightened the bandage around his ribs.

"Oh, quit your whining," she said impatiently. An hour before, Charley thought that she would never be annoyed or mad or feel anything negative toward Vinnie for as long as she lived, yet within that hour everything seemed like it was back to normal.

"Ugh, but it _hurts_!" Vinnie said pathetically. "How many times did that guy slug me?"

"Too many to count," Charley said in a low tone. "Now hold still." Vinnie sighed and looked at his face in the mirror. It was strange, for a second he had a sense of déjà vu, as if his younger self, beaten and bruised after the whole catastrophe in the Forest, was looking back at him. Vinnie turned away from the mirror.

"Looks tender, bro," Throttle said sympathetically, eyeing Vinnie's face. Vinnie touched his cheek gingerly and shrugged.

"Yeah, well, it'll heal."

"Surprised you're taking this so well," Modo said, knowing how Vinnie felt about his looks. Vinnie shrugged, unable to answer. It just didn't really seem to matter as much…for today, anyway.

"So what happened to Limburger? Now that you shot him with that chemical stuff, is he going to be out of it for…well…how old _is_ he, anyway?" Vinnie asked, tilting his head quizzically.

"Ha, well, I don't know how old he is, but I don't think it's going to affect him in the same way, since he isn't a Martian. He'll probably just be in a deep sleep for a few days, but…well, we can hope," Throttle supplied. Vinnie thought for a minute and chuckled.

"I hope he's reliving all the times we kicked his sorry butt!" Vinnie exclaimed, punching the air. He immediately followed that up with a gasp of pain.

"Take it easy there, Hotstuff," Charley cautioned. "How ever long he's out for the count, I think we all need the break." Vinnie took in the dark circles that shadowed her eyes and silently agreed.

"Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I've worked up an appetite. What say we go and grab some grub?" Throttle suggested. Modo rose to his feet and patted his stomach.

"I'm all for it. You must be too, Vinnie, you haven't eaten in over a day," Modo noted. Vinnie's stomach let out a loud growl, as if agreeing, and everyone laughed.

"You guys go ahead, I'm going to catch some sleep," Charley said, putting her medical supplies away. Throttle and Modo headed for their bikes, but Vinnie stayed behind.

"Charley," he said softly, taking her hand. Charley looked up, startled. "I want to thank you…for everything. I know you were there with me the whole time, and…well, thanks," he finished awkwardly. Charley smiled, deeply touched.

"Anytime, Vinnie. Anytime."

Later that night, when the sky was black and the city was beginning to wind down, Vinnie sat alone on the roof of the scoreboard. He took a deep breath of the air, inhaling the freshness of the sky mingled with the exhaust and fast food of the city below. The stars were difficult to see because of the lights, but the moon shone brightly, its face appearing to look amused as it gazed down on the white mouse.

Vinnie gazed around, feeling as if he had just sat with the friends of his past only a moment ago, watching the sun sink down over the Martian horizon. He hadn't really thought about his friends in several years. Just like the pain of losing his father, he had folded them neatly and stowed them away in the corner of his mind. Now, the tightly sealed boxes of his mind had been forced open so that the memories, his loved ones, spilled out and demanded to be recognized. He felt a sudden desire to go to Mars and search for them, to know what had happened to them even if the news was tragic.

Well, he knew where one friend was.

With a deep sigh, he reached over to his bike, which was perched nearby, and opened the deepest compartment. From it, he pulled a small metal box with an old, loose combination lock. He fiddled with the numbers and it clicked open easily.

Vinnie blinked a bit as he ruffled carefully through the contents. An old, worn bandana, much like Vinnie's except for a few oil smudges and the letter _T_ embroidered on one edge, was resting on top of everything. Beneath it were snapshots, a few guitar picks, and some assorted odds and ends. At the very bottom lay what Vinnie had been looking for.

Gently, he pulled out the old, familiar necklace, winding his fingers around the worn twine and cupping the purple stone in his palm. So many memories.

And one broken promise.

Vinnie wrapped both hands around the necklace and pressed his forehead against his fists. Inhaling deeply, he rose to his feet and faced the open sky. His eyes located the far off, reddish dot in the sky that was his home.

"Thrash, I remember what you said," he called, his voice echoing in the night. "And I'm doing the best I can. I don't know…I don't know if it's doing any good though. But I'm trying."

He paused, listening as if he thought he could actually hear Thrash, or Zebbie, or even Rayna somehow answer back. And then, strangely, they did. The voices of the past sang in his mind, the guitar twanged as if Graven was perched next to him, and the promise they had made resonated through the years. He would fight for them…he would live for them.

"Rayna, I'm fighting for you. Thrash, where ever you are, I'm fighting for you too." Vinnie made a fist and grinned, his face wearing his old, eager expression. "And that's a promise I'm never gonna break."

A high pitched, distinctive cry of victory rang through the quiet night.

Far away, tens of thousands of miles through space on a certain red planet, a young male stretched out on a rocky outcropping and stared at the stars, humming an old, familiar tune.

_The End_


End file.
